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Neither  Bond  Nor  Free. 


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(A   PLEA.) 


"  What's  freedom  widout  sumphrC  wid  it  ?" 

— Jack  Dempsey. 


BY 


G.  LANGHORNE   PRYOR. 


Howe'er  it  be  it  seems  to  me, 

'Tis  only  noble  to  be  good. 
Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets, 

And  simple  faith  than  Norman  blood." 


Copyright,  1902,  by  J.  S.  Ogilvie  Publishing  Company. 


New  York  : 

J.  S.  OGILVIE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 

57  Rose  Street. 


A  FEW  OPINIONS  OF 
NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE." 


Rev.  Geo.  H.  Hepworth,  D.D.,  of  New  York  "Herald"  :  "I 
hope  the  project  may  prove  successful,  as  it  deserves  to  be." 

Rev.  H.  B.  Frissell,  Principal,  Hampton  Institute:  "The 
book  contains  some  excellent  points." 

Funk  &  Wagnalls,  Publishers  "  Literary  Digest,"  New  York  : 
"  It  is  indeed  an  eloquent  plea — very  persuasive,  and  writ- 
ten in  a  calm  and  dispassionate  manner.  The  author  has 
evidently  thought  much  on  the  race  problem." 

Rev.  R.  H.  W.  Leak,  D.D.,  Manager,  A.  M.  E.  Book  Concern, 
Philadelphia  :  "  It's  a  good  book.     I  like  it  very  much." 

CoL.  J.  R.  Waddy,  Postmaster,  Norfolk,  Va. :  -'Like  Booker 
Washington,  the  author's  work  will  do  much  to  allay  the 
irritation  between  the  races  and  promote  the  growth  of  a 
better  sentiment  in  our  Soutjiland." 


cr 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  PAGE 

A  Chance  Meeting 7 

CHAPTER  II. 
A  Church  Scene 13 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Town  of  H 21 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Toussaint  Visits  Mema 25 

CHAPTER  V. 
Merna  and  Her  Uncle 33 

CHAPTER  VI. 
A  Lawn  Party 38 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Van  Courtney  and  Clarissa 46 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Toussaint  would  Follow  where  Merna  Leads 55 

CHAPTER  IX. 
A  Picnic.  Followed  by  a  Storm 65 

CHAPTER  X. 
At  the  Parsonage 76 

CHAPTER  XT. 
An  Outing  Experience , , 83 


Vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XII.  PAGE 

The  Southern  Industrial  Institute— Vacation 92 

CHAi'TER  XIII. 
Sowing  the  Wind 103 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Wages  of  Sin Ill 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Queen  of  Society 127 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
Literary  Life  at  the  Capital 134 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Politics  in  the  South 147 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
A  Message  from  Africa 162 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Black  Republic 167 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Jack  Dempsey — Thereby  Hangs  a  Tale 174 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Race  Problems 186 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
"  What's  Freedom  without  Sumpin'  wid  It?" 202 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
Four  Years  Later 212 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
Order  Out  of  Confusion 216 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE 


A  CHANCE  MEETING. 

"Seba  !  Here,  Seba !  Here,  Seba !"  rang  out  on 
the  still  air.  It  was  unmistakably  the  voice  of  a 
girl,  whose  age  you  might  have  guessed  as  anywhere 
between  the  years  of  fifteen  and  twenty — its  ring 
was  so  soft,  so  clear,  so  musical. 

At  that  moment  the  dog  was  bounding  along  up 
the  woody  path,  and  a  little  in  advance  of  Seba  was 
poor  bunny,  whose  strained  eyes  and  stiffened  ears 
betokened  alarm.  Onward  the  animal  sped,  until 
presently  the  two  turned  from  the  leaf-strewn  path 
and  were  lost  to  sight  in  the  deep  wood. 

The  cause  of  this  sudden  flight  was  apparent,  for 
the  rapid  approach  of  firm  steps,  just  ahead,  caused 
it  to  scamper  in  a  new  direction. 

Toussaint  Ripley  espied  the  dog,  paused  a  mo- 
ment and  then  passed  on  at  a  brisk  pace.  He  had 
not  gone  a  great  way  before  he  heard  repeated  calls 
for  Seba. 


8  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

An  instant  gazing  about  for  the  object  of  that 
name,  the  next  he  was  profoundly  surprised  to  have 
his  eyes  meet  those  of  a  charming  girl  of  tender 
years.  Toussaint  raising  his  hat,  bowed  gra- 
ciously, in  anticipation  of  a  speech  which  the  young 
girl's  lips  were  then  framing.  To  her  question  as 
to  whether  he  had  seen  a  dog — a  greyhound,  in  the 
last  few  minutes,  Toussaint  replied  that  he  had 
noticed  a  dog  in  pursuit  of  a  squirrel. 

He  had,  however,  scarcely  made  answer,  when 
Seba  came  rushing  through  the  wood,  and  in  an  in- 
stant more  was  crouched  at  his  mistress'  feet,  pant- 
ing breathlessly.  The  girl  caressed  the  animal,  who, 
in  turn,  frisked  about  under  her  gentle  treatment. 
Toussaint,  meanwhile,  toyed  somewhat  abstractedly 
with  his  watch-guard,  and  then  the  fair  stranger 
in  turning  smilingly  said  "Good-day,  sir/'  and 
hastened  away,  leaving  him  to  his  thoughts. 

"A  creature  divinely  fair,"  he  mused.  "Who  is 
she,  and  what  brings  her  to  this  place?"  Toussaint 
was  altogether  too  busied  with  these  questions  to 
hurry  homeward.  He  trudged  slowly  along,  now 
and  then  observing  the  lengthening  shadows  as  they 
lay  athwart  his  path.  The  golden  orb  of  day  was 
passing  from  sight  in  the  western  horizon.  There 
were  already  visible  tiny,  fleecy  cloudlets,  making 
their  way  over  and  around  it,  which  promised  to 
divest  the  closing  hour  of  this  lovely  June  day  of 
its  charming  afterglow  and  mellow  twilight. 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  9 

Within  half  an  hour,  walking  at  a  brisk  pace, 
Merna  had  gained  the  principal  thoroughfare  of  the 
town  of  H ,  and  some  minutes  later,  Mrs.  Mar- 
garet Lockley,  who  had  been  waiting  and  watching 
eagerly  at  the  door  of  her  home,  was  affectionately 
recounting  to  her  niece  the  anxiety  she  had  felt, 
occasioned  by  her  tardy  return. 

"Merna,  explain  at  once,"  she  gently  chided,  "for 
I  had  expected  your  return  much  earlier." 

It  was  now  Merna's  turn  to  explain.  She  began : 
"Oh,  I  have  had  a  delightful  stroll — only  a  trifle 
more  than  a  mile  beyond  the  confines  of  the  town. 
Presently  I  came  to  a  woody  path  leading  through  a 
lovely  copse,  and  beyond  this  I  could  see  the  deep 
wood.  I  was  charmed  with  the  scenery  of  this 
sunny  land — the  trees — the  flowers — the  birds — all. 
And  Seba,  too,  was  delighted,  until  after  a  time 
something  attracted  the  dog  and  he  ran  away  furi- 
ously. I  called  him  repeatedly,  and  for  the  first 
time  he  gave  no  heed  to  my  voice.  He  had  been  a 
most  obedient  dog." 

Noting  the  intense,  not  to  say  painful,  earnestness 
of  Merna,  Mrs.  Lockley  observed:  "What  w^as  he 
after?" 

"xA.  gentleman  whom  I  chanced  to  meet  told  me  he 
had  gone  in  chase  of  a  squirrel.  It  was  very  kind  of 
the  stranger  to  have  offered  his  services  to  search 
for  Seba." 

Mrs.  Lockley  then  asked  Merna  to  describe  the 


10  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

Stranger.  The  girl  made  no  answer,  but  betraying 
some  mental  preoccupation,  added,  *T  did  not  think 
that  my  Seba  could  torture  any  living  creature.  The 
poor  squirrel.  I  wonder  if  it  was  harmed.  Seba 
seems  to  have  parted  with  his  gentle  habits." 

''There  is  nothing  unusual  in  a  dog's  chasing  a 
squirrel,  or,  as  to  that  matter,  eating  one,"  stoically 
replied  her  aunt. 

"But  Seba  has  ahvays  been  such  a  good,  kind  and 
playful  dog — as  gentle  as  you  please,"  continued 
Merna. 

"Dogs  are  much  like  some  people ;  they  are  apt  to 
follow  their  natures  regardless  of  their  training  and 
previous  habits.  But  you  have  not  yet  told  me  of 
the  stranger,  Merna." 

"I  really  did  not  observe  him  sufficiently  to  be 
able  to  describe  him  in  the  least.  What  I  remember 
is  that  his  address  was  most  deferential,"  said 
Merna. 

The  aunt  was  not  to  be  dismissed  in  the  premises 
in  this  manner.  She  felt  a  little  curious  to  know, 
that  was  all,  how  such  a  trite  experience  as  a  dog 
pursuing  a  squirrel  could  absorb  any  mind  to  the 
exclusion  of  a  human  being,  and  especially  since 
there  w^as  the  novelty,  if  you  are  pleased  so  to  re- 
gard it,  of  seeing  a  man  of  genteel  appearance  and 
charming  manners ;  yet,  so  far  as  she  knew,  possess- 
ing only  a  name,  and  having  no  local  habitation. 

"It  must  have  been  Mr.  Ripley  that  you  saw — 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE,  11 

Toussaint  Ripley.  He  is  a  teacher  in  the  country,  . 
but  boards  in  the  town.  And  a  very  nice  young  I 
man  is  he,"  observed  Aunt  Margaret. 

At  that  moment  there  entered  the  sitting-room 
Mr.  John  Lockley,  the  husband  of  Mrs.  Lockley. 
His  greeting  of  Merna  interrupted  the  narrative  of 
Aunt  Margaret.  After  a  brief  rehearsal  of  the  in- 
cidents of  the  day  for  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Lockley  and 
to  the  delight  of  Mrs.  Lockley,  Merna  retired  in 
peace  and  earlier  than  usual,  to  reflect  on  the  safe 
return  of  Seba,  and  the  peril  of  the  squirrel.  Soon 
thereafter  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lockley  betook  themselves 
to  slumber,  and  all  was  hushed  within  their  home. 

These  two  were  good  souls,  fair  specimens  of  the 
survival  of  the  fittest.  They  had  met  and  wooed 
each  other  under  that  ''peculiar  institution,"  now 
happily  passed  away.  They  had  sustained  a  varied 
experience  which  had  at  least  taught  them  the  golden  . 
lesson  of  contentment  with  their  present  lot.  To  ' 
them  every  morning  was  an  invocation,  every  even- 
ing a  benediction,  and  their  lives  one  sweet  refrain. 
They  found  themselves,  at  the  termination  of  the 
war,  under  new  conditions,  and  having  no  capital, 
save  that  which  energy  could  arouse  in  physical 
natures  much  impaired.  But  they  put  their  heads 
together,  and  builded  for  themselves  a  snug  but 
plain  home,  having  the  comforts  compatible  with 
their  necessities.  The  husband,  hard  by  the  family 
residence,  conducted  a  notion  store  which  was  a 


12  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

most  formidable  rival  for  any  similar  establishment 
of  that  town.  Of  a  family  of  five  children — three 
of  whom  were  daughters,  all  were  grown,  married 
and  prospering. , 

The  truth  is  that  "Uncle  John"  and  "Aunt  Mar- 
garet," by  which  appellations  they  were  most  fa- 
miliarly known  to  the  older  inhabitants,  had  an 
abiding  faith  in  one  another,  and  they  religiously 
believed  that  in  the  world  about  them  all  things 
worked  together  for  good. 


2f EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE).  IB 


CHAPTER  11. 

A   CHURCH   SCENE. 

During  the  summer  of  which  I  write,  rehgious 
fervor  ran  high  among  certain  inhabitants  through- 
out the  tofwn  of  H ,  and  its  environs.     Not  that 

there  was  anything  remarkably  noteworthy  in  the 
zeal  of  these  people — earnestly  professing  to  be  fol- 
lowers of  the  meek  and  lowly  One. 

They  were  already  enthusiasts  by  nature,  and 
religious  zealots  by  tradition,  and  their  zeal,  it 
seemed,  was  kindled  anew  by  contact  with  the 
water.  The  large  majority  of  them  were  of  the 
water-loving  type,  and  it  seemed  to  soothe  and  sus- 
tain their  faith.  There  was  water,  too,  in  abun- 
dance— the  tdwn  being  well  nigh  surrounded  by  it. 
And  while  I  should  hesitate  to  say  that  the  water 
was  an  incentive  to  the  propagation  of  a  certain  re- 
ligious tenet,  it  was  nevertheless  highly  conducive 
to  the  growth  of  the  Baptist  Church — and  these 
churches  were  many.  The  Methodists  were  next 
in  number,  and  if  the  Baptist  propagandist  inter- 


14  2f EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE, 

fered  with  the  spread  of  this  faith,  he  was  power- 
less to  dampen  the  fervor  of  this  band  of  devout 
followers. 

Creeds  and  forms  and  rites  and  ceremonials  are 
seldom  comprehended  by  these  church  attendants. 
And  it  would  seem  unkind  to  expect  the  average 
minister  to  differentiate  the  dogmas  and  tenets  ap- 
pertaining to  his  own  church  from  those  appertain- 
ing to  others.  The  average  minister,  cringing  and 
fawning  for  popular  favor,  has  in  the  meantime  al- 
lowed fanaticism  to  run  riot  with  the  church.  To 
the  enduring  credit  of  a  progressive  race,  it  must 
be  said  that  the  impulsive  and  impassionate  form 
of  worship  is  slowly  retiring  before  the  advent  of  a 
more  enlightened  ministry.  Yet,  I  say,  that  there 
is  everywhere  to  be  found  in  the  churches  I  have 
named,  the  turbulent  brother  and  the  irrepressible 
sister,  who,  upon  the  slightest  pretext,  will  be 
wrought  up  to  white  heat,  under  the  powerful  voice 
or  swaying  figure  of  that  preacher,  or  deacon,  or 
anybody  who  may  chance  to  fill  the  pulpit. 

On  this  blessed,  peaceful  Sabbath  morn,  which 
I  chronicle,  there  were  many  pedestrians  pouring 
out  through  the  highways  and  by-ways  which  empty 
their  traffic  into  that  thoroughfare  in  which  is  lo- 
cated the  spacious  Baptist  edifice  of  the  town.  There 
were  many  vehicles  astir,  coming  in  from  the  sub- 
urbs, for  it  will  be  remembered  that  the  county  in 
which  this  town  is  situated  is  small,  and  the  larger 


y EITHER  BOyD  NOR  FREE.  15 

part  of  the  church  membership  lay  outside  of  the 
town  limit.  There  were  many  horses  and  mules 
attached  to  two-wheeled  vehicles,  usually  kno«\vn 
as  carts,  and  used  for  heavy  traffic,  and  there  was 
a  fair  sprinkling  of  those  horny  headed  animals, 
hooked  up  to  some  rude  attraction  less  dignified 
in  construction  than  the  cart.  The  more  pretentious 
came  in  buggies,  to  which  were  harnessed  mules 
and  horses — among  the  latter  were  some  spirited 
animals,  others  lean  and  discouraged,  to  whom  life 
seemed  indeed  a  burden. 

It  was  the  fourth  Sunday  in  June,  and  this  day, 
every  month,  was  observed  as  Sacrament  Day — 
always  attracting  large  congregations.  This  occa- 
sion, so  soul  inspiring  and  so  solemn  in  its  sugges- 
tiveness,  had  varied  aspects  for  the  communicants. 
To  some  it  was  significant  in  its  appeal  to  their  sense 
of  the  grave  responsibility;  to  others,  the  emotions 
easily  triumphed  over  their  supersensitive  natures, 
still  others  there  were,  responsive  in  no  sense  to  its 
proper  observance.  These  last  were,  indeed,  callous 
creatures. 

The  hour  for  services  had  arrived  and  the  minis- 
ter, the  Rev.  Asa  P.  Burleigh,  a  swarthy  and  capon 
fed  individual  of  generous  proportions,  ascended  the 
rostrum.  While  the  preliminary  exercises  were  in 
progress,  a  woman  in  an  audible  voice,  was  heard  to 
remark  to  a  sister  at  her  elbow:  "Say,  Swepsy, 
you  ain't  goin'  to  take  sacr'ment?" 


16  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

"Why  not?"  retorted  Swepsy,  in  an  undertone. 

"You  remember  the  talk  about  the  goose  you  had 
for  dinner  the  Sunday  Brother  Burleigh  was  at  your 
home?"  whispered  the  stranger. 

"Yes,"  replied  Swepsy,  "but  I  ain't  goin'  to  let 
one  old  goose  I  took  stand  between  me  and  my 
blessed  Lord  and  Marster," — and  then,  with  em- 
phasis— 'Tse  goin'  to  get  my  winef 

At  this  moment  the  muttering  had  drawn  the 
attention  of  a  dapper  young  man,  (with  bluish  eyes 
and  a  city  air,  who  sat  in  the  opposite  pew.  He 
was  jostling  a  companion,  who  occupied  a  seat  next 
him,  with  the  evident  purpose  of  distracting  his  at- 
tention from  the  sermon  on  which  he  seemed  intent, 
and  centering  it  on  the  old  woman,  who,  in  her  con- 
spicuous garb,  affected  a  queenly  sway  in  this 
house.  The  insolent  manner  in  which  Charles  Van 
Courtney  gazed  at  the  old  woman,  was  well  cal- 
culated to  offend  a  far  more  composed  and  less 
sensitive  person  than  Swepsy.  It  amused  Van 
Courtney,  to  see  the  old  W'Oman,  arrayed  in  such 
fantastic  and  inharmonious  colors,  lose  her  com- 
plaisance, and  wince  under  his  jeers. 

He  exultingly  invited  attention  to  her  costume, 
consisting  of  a  pink  silk  skirt,  with  streamers  of 
deep  red,  extending  from  the  girdle  at  the  waist, 
a  bodice  of  some  nile  green  material,  set  off  with  a 
profusion  of  loops  and  bows  of  faded  yellow  ribbon ; 
and  a  bandanna  turban  in  flaming  red  and  blue 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  17 

with  yellow  figures.    In  the  right  hand  she  firmly 
held  her  gloves,  made  of  some  cotton  fabric. 

It  was  a  sultry  day,  there  was  little  air  astir  with- 
out, and  it  was  oppressive  ^vithin,  for  ventilation 
here  was  at  a  discount. 

Van  Courtney  caused  a  dozen  or  more  pairs  of 
eyes  to  turn  involuntarily  in  the  direction  of  his 
searching  gaze,  and  it  was  then  that  Swepsy,  filled 
with  just  indignation  for  the  jester,  defied  him. 

She  seemed  to  lose  all  sense  of  shame,  all  con- 
sciousness of  the  hallowed  place — all  sense  of  the 
presence  of  Rev.  Burleigh,  who,  with  measured 
voice,  had  just  announced  his  text  as  "I.  Corin- 
thians, III.  Chapter,  first  verse."  There  was  a 
something  indefinable — yet  unmistakably  sav- 
age in  the  look  which  the  old  woman  gave  Van 
Courtney.  The  ebony  hue  of  this  creature  was  set 
out  in  all  its  duskiness.  The  lips  were  livid,  and 
the  eyes  glo\ved  wath  intensity  and  redness  strange 
and  unusual. 

Her  teeth  clenched,  and  this  signalized  the  hatred 
she  felt  for  the  stranger. 

"Look  at  that  yaller  dog,"  she  muttered,  half 
to  herself  and  half  to  her  companion.  "God  forgive 
me,  never  min,'  I'll  get  even  with  him." 

Van  Courtney  did  not  hear,  but  he  saw  all,  yet  "^, 
he  was  not  in  the  least  disturbed.     In  truth,  little 
disturbed    this    man,    sleeping    or    waking.      His 
whole  life  had  been  one  day  dream — one  flowery  ^ 


18  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

dream.  He  felt  supreme  contempt  for  all  of  con- 
science. With  him  human  frailty  was  a  folly  not 
to  be  condoned,  and  the  forum  of  conscience  was  a 
tribunal  for  fools. 

And  yet,  at  times,  he  cowed  before  his  con- 
science with  a  certain  feeling  of  dread;  it  was  his 
Nemesis,  and  since  he  could  not  reconcile  his  con- 
duct to  it  he  longed  for  its  annihilation.  He  thought 
it  strange,  too,  that  he  could  not  escape  the  dis- 
tinct memory  of  these  words — a  soliloquy — irresis- 
tible and  impelling: 

''My  conscience  hath  a  thousand  several  tongues, 
And  every  tongue  brings  in  a  several  tale, 
And  every  tale  condemns  me  for  a  villain/^ 

Van  Courtney  was  also  vain  of  his  person,  and 
brooked  no  rival  for  social  honors.  In  others  he 
saw  much  to  envy — little  to  emulate.  He  was,  in 
a  word,  a  law  unto  himself. 

There  he  sat  engrossed  in  self  love.  In  another 
part  of  the  house  was  Merna  Attaway,  in  the  com- 
pany of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Lockley.  They  were 
deeply  interested  in  all  that  the  minister  uttered,  and 
in  nothing  more  than  these  words  :  ''We  are  laborers 
wnth  God.  The  greatest  honor  God  ever  puts  upon 
a  man  in  this  life  is  to  give  him  a  part  of  the  work 
He  is  doing.  It  is  a  great  honor  to  be  taken  into 
co-partnership  with  Him  in  the  evangelization  of 


^EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  19 

the  world.  In  some  part  of  the  work,  He  worked 
alone — in  the  great  work  of  the  creation — ^before 
cause  was  necessary  to  effect.  In  this  God  worked 
alone.  He  spoke  and  it  was  done.  He  commanded 
and  it  stood  fast — all  this  at  the  fiat  of  God.  No 
man  came  to  save  man,  but  God  came  down  to  the 
world  to  save  man.  He  died  for  him.  In  this 
great  work  of  redemption,  he  had  no  fellow.  He 
trod  the  wine  press  alone. 

"What  is  it  to  be  a  co-laborer  with  God?  We 
must  do  His  work — ^work  in  the  same  way.  We 
must  do  nothing  that  will  interfere  with  the  spread 
of  the  gospel.  Some  men  devote  much  time  to  the 
getting  of  money  in  this  world.  This  is  not  His 
work  in  the  world.  To  do  God's  work  is  not  to  do 
the  work  most  conducive  to  a  good  name — to  for- 
tune— to  fame.  He  who  would  not  forsake  father 
and  mother  and  lands  and  everything  is  not  worthy 
to  follow  Me." 

The  sermon  was  singularly  impressive  through- 
out, and  the  pathetic  reference  to  the  Last  Supper 
was  followed  by  the  administration  of  that  sacred 
ordinance. 

After  the  services  were  concluded  Merna  and  her 
company  lingered  for  greetings  with  the  minister 
and  other  friends.  Toussaint  pressed  forward,  os- 
tensibly to  fraternize  with  the  pastor,  but  he  had 
glimpsed  Merna  before  she  left  her  seat.    It  pleased 


20  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

Mrs.  Lockley  to  present  Toussaint  to  her,  and  in 
turn  he  introduced  his  friend  Van  Courtney  to  the 
Lockleys,  and  to  Merna.  The  gentlemen,  of  course, 
were  cordially  invited  to  visit  Miss  Attaway,  and 
Toussaint  especially,  seemed  highly  grateful  for 
the  favor. 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  21 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   TOWN    OF    H 


In  all  the  Southland  there  is  nowhere  to  be  found 
a  spot  so  rich  in  historic  reminiscence,  so  ravishing 
in  its  natural  and  romantic  beauty,  and  containing 
such  distinctive  and  picturesque  groups  of  buildings 
those  creations   of  man   erected   for  eleemosynary 

and  other  purposes  as  the  town  of  H ,  and  its 

vicinity. 

Here  the  soil  is  well  nigh  everywhere  indented 
with  inlet,  or  rivulet.  From  the  mainland  you 
may  gaze  far  out  on  the  bosom  of  this  mighty 
expanse,  and  behold  a  peaceful  habitation  for 
the  navies  of  the  world.  Here  you  see  a  tiny 
fishing  smack,  too  frail,  it  seems,  for  its  cargo 
— a  solitary  soul.  A  little  way  off  numerous 
large  crafts,  with  sail  pinioned  to  mast  and 
stay,  ride  at  anchor  in  the  billowy  foam,  while  others 
with  great  canvas  wings  glistening  in  the  sun,  glide 
hither  and  thither,  seeking  the  ocean's  changing 
wonders.  In  the  midst  of  these — stationed  like  sen- 
tinels, are  the  white  monarchs  of  the  vasty  deep — 


22  tJ EITHER  BOND  A  OR  FREE. 

the  great  ships  of  the  American  navy.  And  these, 
forsooth,  are  but  playthings  on  the  crest  of  the 
waves. 

But  once  upon  a  time — and  the  memory  of  man 
runneth  to  the  same — this  watery  main  was  the 
scene  of  a  conflict  involving  not  only  the  supremacy 
of  the  sea,  but  as  well  the  rights  of  men.  This  ret- 
rospect, however,  cannot  fascinate  the  memory,  for 
it  contains  some  startling  hints  of  the  cannonade. 
The  delightful  prospect  is  far  more  refreshing,  and 
to  the  hearts  of  the  good  and  the  brave  there  comes 
a  feeling  akin  to  ecstacy  when  they  contemplate, 
that  "Peace  hath  her  victories  no  less  renowned 
than  war." 

Ah,  I,  too,  am  drifting  far  to  sea.  I  must  return. 
In  easy  distance  of  the  town  limit,  is  a  point  of 
land  jutting  into  the  sea.  This  is  indeed  a  point 
of  comfort.  Here  you  will  find  a  grim  old  fortifica- 
tion, which  has  long  since  survived  its  usefulness 
as  an  impregnable  defence  in  time  of  war.  Within 
its  parapet,  however,  the  visitor  sees  something  of 
the  "pride,  pomp  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war,"' 
since  the  fort  is  now  used  as  a  military  training 
school  for  the  West  Point  fledgling. 

From  the  far  North  and  South  fair  maidens  and 
gallant  manhood  linger  near  the  shore  for  health- 
giving  ozone,  or  for  recreation  for  which  the 
place  is  justly  famed.  And  when  on  pleasure  bent 
contact  with  military  life  sans  soiici  imparts  a  pe- 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  23 

culiar  charm  to  the  senses  and  this  from  reveille  to 
the  hour  of  taps. 

It   were   strange   indeed   if   the   little   hamlet   of 

H was  not  aroused  from  its  serene  composure, 

and  especially  at  this  season,  when,  close  at  hand, 
hundreds  of  pleasure  seekers  daily  file  in  and  out, 
despoiling  the  quiet  of  this  haunt  wath  their  hilarity 
and  good  cheer. 

It  is  now  nearly  two  hundred  years  since  the  town 
was  incorporated.  The  red  man,  however,  with 
his  squatter  right  of  sovereignty,  had  wooed  his 
dusky  mate,  in  the  village  of  Kekouchtan,  founded 
on  this  same  site,  years  before  the  coming  of  the 
white  man.  It  was  near  this  place  that  the  pioneer 
came  in  quest  of  liberty,  and  near  here  came  the 
negro  as  a  captive.  But  all  this  is  changed  now. 
A  great  institution  to-day  flourishes  on  this  spot.j 
It  rears  its  proud  head,  a  mute  but  exquisite  re-'" 
minder  of  the  amazing  audacity  of  the  one  race, 
and  the  thrilling  experience  of  the  other.  And  within 
these  walls  the  descendants  of  the  captives  sit  at  the 
feet  of  the  descendants  of  the  pioneers  and  learn 
the  lessons  of  life.  The  growth  of  the  town  has  of 
necessity  been  hindered,  for  more  than  once  have 
internecine  struggles  devastated  the  place.  In  the 
corporate  limits  there  are  now  about  five  thousand 
persons,  the  major  part  whites;  and  without  the 
town,  in  the  county,  there  are  three  times  that  num- 
ber, of    whom    a    majority    are    colored.      There 


24  '^EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

is  no  acrimony  between  the  races  engendered  by  the 
memory  of  former  conditions.  The  ''Mammy"  of 
the  olden  time  continues  to  nurse  the  Httle  ''Missis" 
and  little  "Marsa"  of  ante  bellum  days,  and  the 
young  ex-slave  attends  the  public  school  which  is 
in  a  large  measure  sustained  by  the  taxes  paid  by 
the  ex-master.  The  one-room  and  windowless  cabin 
has  long  since  disappeared — even  from  the  rural  dis- 
tricts. The  bug-a-boo  of  negro  domination  and 
social  equality  has  long  since  ceased  to  frighten 
his  white  neighbor,  and  lure  him  on  like  an  ignis 
fatuus  to  deeds  of  violence.  EverySvhere  peace  and 
quiet  seem  to  abide. 

And  yet  this  by  no  means  suggests  contentment. 
It  must  be  obvious  to  all  that  there  is  a  certain  grow- 
ing restlessness  among  the  darker  mass  born  of 
enlightened  ideas.  They  are  discovering,  one  after 
another,  that  justice  is  not  blind,  but — cross-eyed; 
that  civil  rights  and  social  rights  are  wantonly  and 
mischievously  perverted,  and  the  truth  that  "a  man's 
a  man  for  a'  that"  is  more  honored  in  the  breach 
than  the  observance. 

The  blacks  are  mainly  toilers  of  the  sea.  The 
waters  ebb  and  flow  with  bivalves,  Crustacea  and  the 
finny  tribe,  and  so  long  as  these  remain,  let  them  be 
an  augury  of  the  amity  of  the  races. 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  26 


CHAPTER  IV. 


TOUSSAINT  VISITS   MERNA. 


All  the  public  schools  in  this  section  of  the  State . 
had  closed,  and  with  the  closing  of  District  School  ^ 
No.  7,  the  arduous  duties  of  Toussaint  Ripley  were 
at  an  end  for  the  session.  The  school  term  in  the 
country  was  of  short  duration — five  months.  It 
was  not  unusual  for  teachers  to  be  employed  two 
terms  in  a  single  calendar  year.  Toussaint  had  been 
thus  engaged. 

It  was  three  days  since  the  time  Toussaint  was 
presented  to  Merna,  when  he  courageously  wended 
his  way  to  the  home  of  the  Lockleys.  I  say  cour- 
ageously advisedly,  for  in  affairs  of  this  sort  his 
ardent  feelings  were  restrained  by  diffidence. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  home  of  the  Lockleys, 
contrary  to  expectation  (for  he  had  meditated  a 
different  progrom),  he  saw  Merna  Attaway  partly 
concealed  from  view  by  a  bower  of  jasmine  and 
honeysuckle  which  twined  themselves  securely  about 


26  NEITHER  BOND  NOB  FREE. 

the  angles  of  the  broad  veranda  excluding  the  sun's 
rays  and  making  fragrant  the  air  about  them. 

''Walk  in,  Mr.  Ripley,"  said  Merna  as  Toussaint 
advanced  to  the  gate. 

"1  am  indeed  grateful  for  the  invitation,"  he  re- 
plied with  some  constraint.  He  saw  that  Merna 
twas  not  alone,  for  by  her  side  sat  a  bright  little  boy 
who  was  intently  gazing  up  in  her  lustrous  eyes. 
From  the  animated  look  of  the  child,  he  was  de- 
lighted with  his  reception.  Seba  lay  at  his  mistress's 
feet,  dozing  as  best  he  could,  for  the  flies  one  after 
another  would  alight  on  his  drooping  lids  much  to 
his  worriment. 

'This  is  Master  Bernice,  the  son  of  Mr.  Burleigh. 
He  is  my  constant  companion,"  said  Merna. 

"It  is  pleasant  to  know  that  you  are  not  lacking 
for  company,"  remarked  Toussaint. 

'T  am  never  wholly  without  company,  Seba  is  al- 
ways with  me.  He  has  only  played  the  truant  once, 
and  that  was  on  the  eventful  day  when  I  first  saw 
you." 

"I  shall  not  soon  forget  that  day.  It  was  a  revela- 
tion to  me,"  observed  Toussaint. 

He  had  discovered  by  her  earnest  utterance  that 
the  brute  was  the  central  figure  in  her  mental  picture, 
and  he  a  mere  incident.  If  he  could  not  eliminate 
this  figure  he  would  at  least,  he  mused,  make  this  the 
incident,  and  himself  the  central  figure.  His  speech 
seemed  direct  enough,  and  yet  it  missed  the  mark. 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  27 

Merna  gazed  tenderly  at  the  child  by  her  side, 
then  somewhat  inquiringly  in  the  direction  of  the 
speaker. 

Bernice  was  restless — this  was  a  sort  of  interlude 
to  him.  He  arose,  put  his  arms  about  Merna's  neck, 
kissed  her,  and  then  ran  homeward. 

She  evidently  did  not  divine  this  last  speech  of 
Toussaint's. 

Surely  it  was  direct,  altogether  too  direct  for  her 
artless  nature. 

She  gave  Toussaint  credit  for  sincerity  of  utter- 
ance, but  not  for  impulsiveness.  She  was  of  a  dif- 
ferent mould  and  built  on  a  splendid  plane.  She  was 
an  altruistic  model.  Toussaint  Ripley,  on  the  con- 
trary, although  imbued  with  lofty  ideals,  lacked  the 
divine  impulsion.  He  was  of  the  self  assertive 
mould,  and  this  quality  often  impelled  him  beyond 
laudable  ends.  He  was  far  too  impulsive  for  con- 
stant introspective  study.  He  knew  other  men  bet- 
ter than  himself,  and  it  was  there  he  found  his  realm. 
He  was  unlike  Merna,  and  yet  he  was  not  an  ego- 
tist, in  the  vulgar  sense  of  the  word.  He  was  rather 
a  glorified  egotist,  for  he  Avas  from  time  to  time 
making  explorations  in  the  half  discovered  realm 
of  self.  And  this  not  through  complaint  nor  for 
self  applause,  but  with  the  true  student's  instinct  of 
research. 

Toussaint's  sensitive  nature  recoiled;  he  felt  that 
Merna  had  repulsed  him.     He  had  lost  his  cue  and 


28  'SEITEER  BOND  KOR  FREE. 

realized  that  he  must  needs  begin  again.  This  time 
he  inquired  solicitously  as  to  the  health  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Lockley,  and  he  expressed  the  wish  that  Mer- 
na's  stay  in  this  place  would  be  highly  agreeable. 

"I  am  delighted  with  this  visit  to  the  South," 

"Then  you  know  something  of  the  fair  South?" 
she  said.  "You  may  not  know  that  I  am  a  native  of 
this  section.  My  father  was  born  in  this  place,  and 
lived  here  during  his  'whole  life.  When  he  died  I 
was  but  three  years  old,  and  was  taken  by  my  mother 
to  Boston,  where  we  have  since  resided  with  my 
uncle,  Ralph  Attaway." 

"I  know  little  about  the  South  save  the  harrow- 
ing recitals  of  my  mother,  together  with  what  I  have 
read  in  books  and  papers.  In  all  the  past  fifteen 
years  my  mother  could  not  be  induced  to  make  a 
visit  to  this  spot.  And  yet  she  has  always  re- 
garded it  as  a  religious  duty  to  make  a  pilgrimage 
here  at  some  time,  in  order  the  better  to  perpet- 
uate some  green  spot  of  old  associations  in  her 
memory.  I  suppose  I  am  here  as  a  hostage,"  said 
Merna. 

"Yes,"  observed  Toussaint,  "a  hostage  to  for- 
tune." 

"You  are  a  teacher,  I  believe;  I  hope  you  like 
your  work,"  inquired  Merna. 

"I  am  a  teacher,  but  have  ceased  for  the  session 
to  teach  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot." 

"Ah,  it  is  your  vacation,  then,"  said  the  girl. 


VmTHER  BOND  NOR  FREF!.  ^9 

"It  must  be  a  source  of  both  constant  anxiety  and 
encouragement  to  be  engaged  at  such  a  noble  post  j 
of  duty." 

*'Yet,  it  is  wearisome  work,  withal,"  he  re- 
plied. 

"We  should  not,  I  take  it,  feel  weary  in  well 
doing.  That  man  does  much  for  his  country, 
much  for  his  home,  much  for  his  God,  who  spends 
his  time  guiding  the  footsteps  of  the  young,"  said 
Merna. 

"But  facilities  for  teaching  are  so  poor  in  the  k 
South,  and  desired  results  are  difficult  of  attain-  ^ 
ment.     I  could  do  very  much  more  for  my  peo- 
ple if  I  had  a  broader  field  in  which  to  operate," 
he  went  on. 

"Of  course,  your  task  might  be  easier,  and 
your  mind  contented  once  in  possession  of  every 
facility  and  convenience  for  work.  But  suppose  you 
were  to  leave  your  present  post,  would  you  not 
shirk  a  great  responsibility?  Remember  that  some- 
body must  perform  the  work  What  we  need  for 
every  duty  is  consecration.  We  must  go  forth  as 
empty  and  broken  vessels  fitted  for  the  Master's 
use.  We  must  go  forth,  neither  seeking  nor  avoid- 
ing broad  fields  nor  dungeons,  actuated  only  by  con- 
scientious convictions  of  duty  and  a  spirit  of  self- 
abnegation,  and  then,  Mr.  Ripley,  leave  results  to 
take  care  of  themselves." 

"I  do  not  wish  to  shirk  any  responsibility,  and  I 


30  ^EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

wish  to  be  able  to  do  the  largest  measure  of  good 
for  a  struggling  race.  I  was  only  thinking  that 
my  qualifications  fitted  me  for  more  advanced 
w^ork." 

''Do  you  not  think  that  conspicuous  w^ould  more 
appropriately  convey  your  meaning?  There  are 
no  degrees  in  righteous  works,  and  there  should 
be  no  distinction  made.  You  might  command  a 
larger  following  elsewhere,  but  I  am  sure  you 
could  not  have  a  more  advanced  work  of  usefulness 
than  your  present  employment.  You  will  doubtless 
recall  little  Lillo,  a  character  in  one  of  George 
Eliot's  works.     I  think  it  is " 

''Romola,"  interrupted  Toussaint. 

"Yes,  Romola,"  said  Merna.  "Well,  Lillo  with 
some  of  the  hereditary  instinct  I  think,  expressed 
the  wish  to  become  a  great  man,  and  win  great 
plaudits  and  pleasures.  There  is  no  thought  so 
beautiful  and  ennobling  in  the  book  as  the  foster 
mother's  reply:  That  is  not  easy,  my  Lillo,  my 
father  had  the  greatness  that  belongs  to  integrity, 
to  character,  the  greatness  that  belongs  to  a  life 
spent  in  struggling  against  powerful  wrong  and 
trying  to  lift  men  up  to  the  highest  deeds  of  which 
they  are  capable.'  " 

"I  guess  there  was  already  aglow^  in  little  Lillo's 
breast  the  spark  of  some  illustrious  political  career 
for  which  he  w^as  destined,"  thoughtfully  uttered 
Toussaint. 


VEITHER  BOXD  NOR  FREE.  $1 

"There  is  much  work  for  the  reformer  to  do 
along  that  Hne,  but  he  must  not  avoid  the  work 
of  the  dungeon  for  the  broad  field  of  politics.  This 
is  not  self-abnegation,"  repeated  Merna. 

Toussaint  was  clearly  out  of  his  element.  And 
yet  his  ideals  were  as  pure  as  hers — the  difference 
was  he  had  not  lifted  himself  upon  a  plane  with 
them.  If  at  times  he  had  evil  impulses,  he  did  not, 
however,  mean  to  be  a  teacher  of  evil.  He  was  too 
charitable,  and,  according  to  his  ideas  of  inno- 
cence,, too  innocent  for  that.  One  cannot  but  feel 
compassion  for  a  creature  who  had  had  little  ex- 
perience with  good  for  the  sake  of  good,  who  shrank 
from  imparting  to  another  a  teaching  which  might 
lead  to  his  ruin,  who  was  fond  of  alleviating  suffer- 
ing, who  was  endowed  with  genius,  and  yet  whose 
religion  and  morahty  were  held  in  captivity  by  his 
inordinate  pride  and  ambition. 

Toussaint  had  made  a  discovery,  a  very  valuable 
one  he  reckoned — to  enlist  the  interest  of  Merna 
for  himself.  He  had  discovered  her  charitableness 
— her  instinct  for  humanity. 

He  had  a  strong  liking  for  politics,  and  gave  evi- 
dence of  some  adroitness  in  the  same.  It  was  a 
clever  ruse  to  play  upon  Merna's  sympathies  by 
speaking  of  political  conditions.  She  became  a  fas- 
cinated listener  while  Toussaint  in  glowing  terms 
depicted  the  trials  of  his  people — their  insecurity 
of    civil    protection — their    educational    disadvan- 


32  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

tages,  all  brought  about  by  the  deprivation  of  the 
rights  of  the  majority  party;  the  Republicans  in  gen- 
eral, and  the  negro  in  particular.  He  had  made 
several  campaign  speeches  at  various  points  in  his 
county,  and  was  fast  achieving    distinction    as    a 

leading  "spell    binder"  in    the  county    of    E . 

A  persuasive  voice  with  intense  earnestness  and 
force  of  utterance  carries  everything  before  it.  The 
captivating  eloquence  of  Toussaint's  speech  sub- 
dued for  a  time  her  spirited  temperament  and  en- 
tranced the  finer  feelings  of  her  nature. 

Toussaint  knew  that  he  had  not  only  played  upon 
her  emotions,  but  had  gratified  her  intelligence  as 
well.  And  he  left  with  the  pleasurable  thought  that 
he  could  henceforth  proclaim  an  open  sesame  to  the 
citadel  of  her  love. 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  33 


CHAPTER  V. 


MERNA  AND  HER  UNCLE. 


Merna  Attaway  was  not  remarkable  for  beauty 
of  feature  or  form.  She  was  not  created  a  model 
for  the  gods,  nor  was  she  so  fairy-Hke  that  a  ray 
of  sun  would  have  spoiled  her  beauty.  You  would, 
however,  have  remarked  the  simplicity  of  her  ap- 
pearance in  the  midst  of  a  thousand. 

Merna  was  fair  of  face  and  form,  and  possessed 
vivacity  tempered  with  exquisite  refinement.  Her 
gracefully  poised  head  was  set  off  to  advantage  w^ith 
a  luxuriant  growth  of  black  hair  which  gave  a  pleas- 
ing contrast  to  her  dark  Spanish  complexion.  Her 
full  black  eyes  highly  suffused  fwith  their  soul  stir- 
ring energy  seemed  singularly  contradictory  to 
her  apparent  timidity  and  reserve.  To  these  pos- 
sessions must  be  added  the  captivating  charm  of  a 
clinging,  loving  nature,  reinforced  by  such  orna- 
mentations as  a  winsome  smile  and  a  musical  voice. 
Little  wonder  that  such  a  girl  was  the  idol  of  her 
uncle,  and  fondly  remembered  by  all  who  knew 
her. 


34  l^EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

The  most  that  can  be  said  of  her  parents  is  that 
they  were  honest,  poor  and  industrious.  I  have  al- 
ready remarked  that  Merna  was  taken  to  Boston 
by  her  mother  when  she  was  but  three  years  old. 
It  was  a  God-send  to  the  child  to  have  found  as  her 
protector  Ralph  Attaway.  She  could  claim  nothing 
by  heredity.  She  was  henceforth  to  be  moulded  for 
good  or  evil  by  the  unyielding  forces  which  \ve  call 
environment.  To  the  advantages  of  a  New  Eng- 
land education  was  added  the  powerful  stimulus 
for  effort  which  contact  with  superior  or  experi- 
enced minds  necessarily  brings.  She  imbibed  her 
tastes  and  tendencies  from  her  surroundings,  and 
forms  and  aspects  took  on  such  colorings  as  were 
within  her  horizon. 

Mr.  Attaway  was  by  no  means  a  nonentity.  His 
was  an  interesting  personality  and  allied  thereto  was 
an  interesting  history.  He  had  been  a  conspicuous 
figure  in  that  extensive  organization  known  as  the 
"underground  railroad;"  this  Kvas  about  the  time 
when  the  independence  of  the  Republic  of  Liberia 
had  been  acknowledged  by  America  and  the  Eu- 
ropean powers.  Ralph  Attaway  had  gone  to  Li- 
beria as  a  sort  of  sub-agent  in  charge  of  a  band  of 
emigrants.  He  had  an  active  and  fertile  mind.  He 
had  early  learned  to  read  and  write,  and  kept  at  it 
until  he  w^as  a  real  self-made  mxan — whatever  this 
may  signify.  He  was  quite  active  in  the  politics  of 
the  Republic  early  in  the  fifties,  and  was  an  intimate 


'NEITHER  BOSD  XOR  FREE.  35 

friend  of  Joseph  J.  Roberts,  governor  and  after- 
-wards  president  of  Liberia.  But  politics  had  only 
an  ephemeral  fascination  for  him.  His  attention 
had  been  attracted  to  the  advantages  of  the  coun- 
try respecting  the  production  and  exportation  of 
coffee  and  palm  oil.  He  (was  persuaded  that  Afri- 
can coffee  could  secure  a  large  sale  in  the  United 
States,  already  a  great  consumer  of  this  article. 
This  country  was  at  the  time  the  undisputed  market 
for  the  Brazilian  product,  a  somewhat  inferior  ar- 
ticle of  trade.  He  reckoned  that  African  coffee,  of 
which  there  was  such  a  prolific  yield  in  the  western 
part  of  the  country,  would  prove  a  formidable  rival 
for  the  Brazilian  staple,  and  especially  among  con- 
noisseurs. 

An  unsuccessful  effort  v/as  made  by  him  and  his 
friends  to  enlist  the  co-operation  of  capitalists  both 
in  this  country  and  in  England,  but  for  some  cause 
the  project  never  became  a  serious  venture.  Ralph 
Attaway  was  not  easily  discouraged.  If  a  big 
scheme  would  not  fructify,  he  believed  there  was 
virtue  in  a  little  one.  And  thus  he  set  himself  to 
work  at  Monrovia,  cultivating  the  coffee  berry,  and 
when  three  years  thereafter  he  had  secured  a  fair 
yield,  he  felt  encouraged,  garnered  the  harvest  and 
sailed  for  America,  leaving  his  little  farm  in  good 
hands. 

This  venture  (was  a  doubtful  experiment,  but  his 
patience  was  amply  rewarded.     The  colonization  so- 


36  2f EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

ciety  had  been  the  means  of  bringing  Ralph  in  con- 
tact with  some  influential  and  wealthy  people. 
This  served  him  as  the  means  tc  an  early  and  favor- 
able introduction  of  the  African  coffee  in  the  homes 
of  several  wealthy  Bostonians.  There  were  many 
adulterations  of  foreign  coffee  on  the  market,  and 
Brazil,  in  chief,  was  spoiling  the  enviable  reputa- 
tion of  the  Arabian  berry  with  her  arrogant  pre- 
tensions of  growing  the  mocha  seed. 

It  proved  a  genuine  and  well  timed  enterprise  to 
Ralph  Attaway  to  establish  a  little  ''coffee  shop,"  as 
he  called  it,  in  a  prominent  thoroughfare  of  Boston. 
The  place  it  is  true  was  very  small,  but  it  was  well 
stocked  with  Liberian  coffee  and  palm  oil. 

Orders  came  thick  and  fast  to  Ralph  in  his  humble 
quarters.  His  cofifee  was  gradually  distributed  be- 
yond the  confines  of  the  city  of  Boston,  and  the  re- 
turns the  meanwhile  were  so  gratifying  as  to  broad- 
en the  little  merchant's  smile. 

Two  years  later  there  was  a  large  consignment  of 
the  product  from  the  five  years'  growth  of  the  coffee 
tree,  to  Mr.  Ralph  Attaway  at  Boston.  This  in- 
creased supply  was  met  by  an  increased  demand. 
And  thus  his  business  progressed  while  his  farm 
yielded  without  labor  the  precious  bean. 

Ralph  was  a  level-headed  man;  he  essayed  no 
style  and  did  not  grow  pompous,  but  carefully  in- 
vested his  earnings  in  suburban  realty  and  kept  his 
own  counsel.     His  palm  oil  sale  was  small.    Ralph 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  37 

insisted  that  the  oil  held  out  inducements  equal  to 
that  of  his  coftee  venture,  yet  his  predictions  favored 
from  the  first  the  latter  business. 

Many  years  have  passed  since  some  sign  painter, 
not  over  dextrous  in  his  art,  had  traced  in  plain, 
bold,  black  letters,  over  the  door  of  the  coffee  shop, 
the  name  RALPH  ATTAW AY— nothing  more. 
And  these  letters  had  from  time  to  time  been  re- 
touched as  they  became  obscure  by  the  encroach- 
ments of  years,  until  to-day  the  curious  are  enabled 
to  point  out  the  room  in  which  Ralph  so  successfully 
operated  until  recently.  The  old  house  is  now  be- 
ing used  as  a  cheap  lodging  place  for  laboring  peo- 
ple. 

Ralph  continues  to  cherish  the  hope  that  in  a 
day  not  far  distant,  direct  commercial  intercourse 
will  be  had  with  the  Republic  of  Liberia  and  this 
country,  and  thus  a  less  circuitous  route  will  cheap- 
en the  cost  of  shipment  of  coffee  to  America.  It 
is  now  his  fondest  wish  to  see  an  ocean  greyhound 
laden  with  the  best  products  of  Africa  steering  into 
the  ports  of  this  country. 


38  'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


A    LAWN    PARTY. 


It  was  a  sultry  day  in  July      The  town  of  H • 

was  literally  swarming  with  strangers.  For  several 
weeks  the  Rev.  Mr.  Burleigh  had  been  indefatigable 
in  heralding  the  approach  of  his  lawn  party.  A  new 
church  edifice,  and  among  the  finest  in  the  town, 
must  be  freed  from  debt.  A  lawn  party  was  one 
among  many  methods  employed  to  lift  the 
burden  of  fifty  thousand  dollars  under  which  the 
membership  groaned.  And  thus,  day  and  night, 
and  for  weeks  it  was  arranged  that  the  young  and 
the  old  might  gather  under  booths  and  canopies,  or 
in  the  open  spacious  grounds  which  surround  the 
church,  and  have  a  merry  time.  The  opening  oc- 
casion was  interesting.  This  occurred  on  an  even- 
ing in  mid-July.  Mr.  Burleigh  doubtless  flattered 
himself  with  the  idea  that  he  was  rendering  a  signal 
service  in  bringing  together  on  social  terms  the 
strangers  here  assembled,  with  all  of  whom  he 
seemed  to  be  on  easy  terms  of  acquaintance. 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  39 

Edward  Strother,  a  young  man  known  to  good 
works,  was  present.  He  possessed  the  distinction 
of  being  assistant  superintendent  of  the  Sunday 
school  of  this  church.  He  was  much  in  love  with 
the  work.  He  s'wung  the  big  hammer  on  the  anvil 
in  a  blacksmith  shop  six  days  in  every  week,  and 
on  the  seventh  he  rested.  He  was  not,  however, 
like  Elihu  Burritt — a  learned  blacksmith;  but  he 
was,  nevertheless,  studious,  frank  and  manly. 

The  minister  engaged  the  attention  of  Strother, 
concerning  some  of  the  minor  details  of  the  enter- 
tainment, w^hen  there  approached  him  a  pretty  girl 
with  demure  and  dainty  face  and  a  pair  of  dewy 
surprised  eyes  under  a  big  bobbin  hat  brim.  A 
sweep  of  lashes  gently  shading  the  cheeks  made  her 
cutaway  coat  of  scarlet  velvet,  and  trained  skirt  of 
cardinal  cloth  a  delight.  This  was  a  season  of 
gaudy  colors  and  grotesque  shapes  in  dress,  and 
happy  was  Ethel  Gay. 

Ethel  had  only  been  in  the  place  a  single  week, 
but  she  had  made  many  acquaintances.  Mr.  Burleigh 
presented  Strother  to  Ethel.  They  chatted  to- 
gether for  several  minutes — at  least,  Ethel  did, — 
Strother  proved  himself  by  far  the  better  listener  of 
the  two.  She  told  him  that  she  was  a  Washington- 
ian,  and  learning  that  he  had  never  visited  that  city. 
explained  some  of  the  beauties  thereof. 

Later  on  Mr.  Burleigh  inquired  of  her  how  she 
was  impressed  with  his  young  friend. 


40  "NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

The  girl  replied,  ''He  seems  obsequious.  He's 
like  an  over-grown  boy.  I  think  he  belongs  with 
his  mother." 

At  this  reflection,  told  with  a  ripple  of  merriment, 
the  kindly  disposed  minister  smiled  encouragingly. 

As  the  evening  advanced  the  party  grew  lively. 
Charles  Van  Courtney  had  arrived.  He  made  his 
way  to  Ethel. 

"Ah,  there,  Ethel !" 

''How  are  you,  dear  boy?"  retorted  the  girl. 

"I  have  just  learned  that  you  have  gone  into  new 
biz." 

"What  do  you  say,  Charley?" 

"I  say  that  you  have  embarked  in  the  black- 
smithy  enterprise,"  responded  Van  Courtney. 

At  this  stricture  Ethel  laughed  outright. 

"And  do  you  laugh  at  me,  thereby  adding  insult 
to  injury.  Your  cruelty  breaks  my  heart  and  my 
eyes  run  over." 

"Well,  cork  your  eyebrows,"  said  the  girl. 

At  this  attempt  to  be  wntty,  the  girl  who  some- 
times looked  demure,  giggled,  and  Van  Courtney 
arose  and  conducted  her  to  a  table  near  by  laden 
with  good  things  which  were  spread  for  sale.  As 
they  seated  themeselves,  he  exclaimed : 

"Ah,  this  is  nice." 

"What  is  nice?"  she  inquired. 

"Why,  you." 

She  blushed  and  said,  "Yes,  I  know." 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  41 

"What?" 

*'That  I  am  nice,"  she  said. 

"How?" 

"I — I  have  been  told." 

"Humph!     By  whom?" 

''You/' 

Thus  these  two  people  indulged  in  this  insipid 
chit-chat  until  Rev.  Burleigh  joined  them,  insisting 
that  he  should  serve  Ethel  with  some  refreshments. 

"Mr.  Burleigh,  what  has  become  of  the  young 
blacksmith?"  inquired  Ethel. 

"I  left  him  over  the  way  a  few  minutes  ago  in 
the  company  of  Merna  Attaway  and  Mr.  Ripley. 
They  have  requested  that  I  find  you  and  bring  you 
to  them." 

"Yes,  we  will  go,"  said  Ethel,  nodding  approv- 
ingly in  the  direction  of  Van  Courtney,  who  arose, 
lighted  a  cigar  and  strode  off,  promising  to  join 
them  "later  on." 

"But  tell  me  of  the  blacksmith,"  said  Ethel. 

"Mr.  Strother  is  a  quiet,  unassuming  and  well- 
meaning  man.  He  is  also  a  successful  student  and 
blacksmith.  And,  more  than  this,  he  will  some  day, 
if  he  pursues  his  present  employment,  work  a  revo- 
lution in  the  manufacture  of  cannon.  Have  you 
not  read  of  his  experiments  with  aluminum?  A 
few  months  ago  he  tempered  some  of  the  metal  and 
constructed  of  it  a  cannon  about  thirty  inches  long, 
having  a  bore  of  five  inches  in  diameter,  and  from 


4a  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE, 

this  he  fired  a  charge  consisting  of  one  pound  of 
gun  powder,  without  the  cannon  sustaining  the 
sHghtest  injury,  and  remember  the  metal  of  the 
barrel  was  only  a  quarter  of  an  inch  thick." 

"Well,  let  us  hasten  to  join  the  great  inventor," 
exclaimed  Ethel. 

When  Ethel  and  Mr.  Burleigh  reached  the  party, 
Merna  was  commenting  on  a  newspaper  article  of 
the  drowning  of  several  women  in  six  feet  depth 
of  w^ater,  simply  because  they  became  needlessly 
frightened  and  went  into  hysterics.  Out  of  defer- 
ence to  the  new  arrivals,  she  attempted  to  change 
the  conversation.  They  all,  ho%vever,  urged  that 
she  continue  the  recital. 

'This  is  a  melancholy  illustration,"  she  went  on, 
"of  the  emotional  nature  of  our  sex.  We  have 
little  self-control.  We  have  an  abnormal  emo- 
tional temperament.  The  insane  asylums  are 
to-day  crowded  with  our  women  who  have 
gone  mad  over  love  or  religion.  Disgust- 
ing love  songs,  sentimental  stories  from  the 
story  papers  and  sloppy  novels  feed  the  emotions, 
and  extraordinary  crimes,  self-inflicted  or  inflicted 
on  others,  are  the  natural  results.  I  believe  that 
woman  has  a  higher  moral  and  spiritual  nature  than 
man — given  to  her  for  the  uplifting  and  purifying 
of  the  race,  but  with  us  it  is  being  choked  off  by 
this  emotional  temperament  fed  by  the  trash  I  have 
named.     Her  mistakes  are  largely  traceable  to  this 


T^EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  43 

gushy,  emotional  temperament,  constantly  fed  by 
morbid  excitement." 

Ethel  said  nothing.  She  took  relief  in  a  yawn, 
when  Toussaint  remarked  that  much  Merna  had 
said  appealed  with  equal  force  to  the  condition  of 
the  man. 

"In  the  course  of  my  humble  observations,"  she 
replied,  "it  seems  that  his  troubles  arise  chiefly 
from  over-indulgence  in  his  appetites,  and  woman's 
over-indulgence  in  her  emotions  is  equally  as  bad." 

"What  remedy  could  you  suggest  to  curb  this 
tendency  of  your  sex?"  he  inquired. 

"I  believe  that  science,  medicine,  wholesome  read- 
ing and  associations  will  accomplish  the  work.  We 
cannot  hope  for  a  strong  race  until  we  have  strong 
mothers.  You  know  that  all  women  are  not  fit  to 
be  mothers  any  more  than  all  men  are  fit  to  be 
fathers,"  replied  Merna. 

"Yes,  and  I  have  been  reading  much  of  late  con- 
cerning our  women  in  politics.  Lady  politicians 
and  female  agitators,"  sneered  Toussaint,  "are 
rapidly  coming  to  the  front.  Political  fever  is  get- 
ting epidemic  and  the  strain  of  woman's  abnormal 
enthusiasm  is  apt  to  produce  mental  derangement." 

"It  has  often  seemed  to  me  that  in  the  popular 
political  demonstrations,  speakers  and  hearers 
among  the  so-called  stronger  minded  sex  betray  in- 
stant signs  of  violent  mania/'  remarked  Merna. 

"Your  observations,"  replied  Toussaint,  "are,  of 


44  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

course,  confined  to  the  intelligent  voter  of  the  North. 
This  is,  indeed,  a  mild  picture  by  the  side  of  the 
untutored  black  and  white  voter  of  the  South. 
Here  you  see  whole  communities  of  individuals 
seized  with  an  epidemic,  the  outgrowth  of  political 
strife,  and  when  you  consider  the  ignorance  and 
emotional  natures  of  the  Afro- Americans,  it  is  a  sad 
plight.  The  chronic  office  seeker  and  professional 
politician  exclaim  with  one  breath  that  they  are  try- 
ing to  lift  the  race.  But  I  say  God  save  the  mark. 
The  right  of  suffrage  is  a  good  thing,  but  every- 
thing depends  upon  its  right  use.  The  masses  are 
so  ignorant." 

"Yes,  and  no  one  knows  this  better  than  our  false 
leaders,"  interrupted  Strother,  who  had  all  along 
been  an  eager  listener. 

"But  how  are  we  to  improve  our  condition,"  ob- 
served Toussaint. 

"Certainly  not  in  rushing  over  the  precipice  like 
a  flock  of  sheep,  lured  on  by  these  black  leaders  and 
white  bosses, — republicans  for  spoils  only.  Men 
who  love  office  better  than  country  are  not  fit  per- 
sons to  rule.  Place  good  men  to  the  front,  regard- 
less of  race.  It  should  not  be  a  question  of  the 
color  of  a  man's  skin,  but  rather  the  purity  of  his 
soul,"  remarked  Strother. 

"But  what  avail  is  it  to  have  good  leaders  in  the 
South  when  the  negro  cannot  have  his  ballot  counted 


VEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE,  45 

and  returned  as  cast  ?  His  ballot  is  only  a  delusion 
and  a  snare,"  said  Toussaint. 

"It  is  better  just  now  to  be  qualified  for  voting 
than  to  vote.  There  is,  besides,  a  better  day  dawn- 
ing jn  the  South.  Things  are  now  changing.  The 
power  so  long  wrested  from  the  majority  by  fraud 
and  violence  will  soon  be  rightfully  restored  for  the 
good  of  all,"  observed  Strother. 

'T  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Toussaint,  "there 
are  already  visible  signs  that  the  usurpation  scheme 
has  turned  to  plague  the  inventor.  White  men  are 
now  nullifying  the  votes  of  white  men,  and  this 
state  of  affairs  signifies  the  beginning  of  the  end." 

While  this  colloquy  was  in  progress,  Ethel  and 
the  Rev.  Burleigh  were  actually  conducting  an- 
other, and  a  different  one. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  had  always  known  you,"  he  said 
in  a  subdued  tone. 

"Well,  and  what  of  it?" 

"Because  I  think  the  world  of  you." 

"Are  you  really  sure  you  do?" 

And  the  minister  making  no  reply,  rested  his  eyes 
for  a  moment  on  those  coquettish  and  beseeching 
ones  surmounted  by  the  broad  brow,  and  then  on 
that  short  curling  upper  lip,  and  the  next  on  Merna, 
and  then  there  was  a  lull  and  he  was  sure  some- 
body had  heard  his  speech. 


46  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

VAN   COURTNEY  AND  CLARISSA. 

Van  Courtney  did  not  see  Ethel  and  her  com- 
pany "later  on,"  the  evening  of  the  lawn  party  when 
he  had  left  her  so  abruptly,  but  made  his  way  di- 
rectly to  the  home  of  Rev.  Burleigh.  There  he 
saw  Clarissa,  the  daughter  of  the  clergyman.  This 
course  was  not  premeditated  by  Van  Courtney,  it 
was  hatched  in  an  instant.  He  had  unceremonious- 
ly made  the  acquaintance  of  this  girl,  and  had  culti- 
vated the  same  with  assiduous  care,  in  season  and 
out  of  season. 

Lawn  parties  where  staid  church  folk,  and  pro- 
saic people  in  general  w^ere  wont  to  gather,  were  not 
to  his  liking,  but  then  Ethel  and  Merna  would  be 
there.  Merna's  face  w-as  fascinating  enough,  but 
there  was  to  him  something  positively  repelling  in 
her  conversation.  Once  in  speaking  of  her  to  Tous- 
saint  he  had  referred  to  her  as  having  a  "catchy 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  4^ 

face;  but  she  is  not  bright,  sparkling  and  imagina- 
tive in  her  talk  like  Ethel." 

And  thus  it  seemed  he  was  pleased  to  be  away 
from  such  a  scene. 

In  a  quiet  little  street  only  a  few  minutes'  walk 
from  the  church,  the  minister  and  his  family  kept 
house.  Besides  Clarissa,  a  young  girl  just  budding 
into  womanhood,  there  were  little  Bernice,  a  de- 
formed child  of  seven  years,  and  his  mother,  Mrs. 
Martha  A.  Burleigh.  There  were  no  discords  in 
this  home.  Here  the  utmost  freedom  prevailed. 
Indeed  freedom  and  license  seemed  interchangeable 
words,  and  the  limitation  of  the  former  was  often  the 
opportunity  for  the  latter.  At  least,  this  was  the 
governing  principle — or  rather  the  absence  of  it — 
which  characterized  the  conduct  of  the  head  of  the 
household — a  man  of  generous  impulses  and  sym- 
pathetic nature. 

Mrs.  Burleigh  was  an  unassuming,  plain  and 
good  woman.  She  regarded  it  as  her  religious  dutv 
to  wear  the  world  as  a  "loose  garment,"  which  being- 
interpreted  by  her  conduct,  was  that  her  only  mis- 
sion was  to  go  from  house  to  house  doing  good, 
trying  to  cheer  the  disconsolate.  It  never  occurred 
to  her  that  charity  should  begin  at  home.  She  was 
a  gentle  creature  of  slender  physique  and  complained 
of  many  physical  infirmities,  but  she  was  constantly 
"on  the  go." 

Qarissa  kept  house, — at  least,  this  she  was  sup- 


48  :neiteer  bond  nor  free:. 

posed  to  do,  but  there  was  many  an  idle  gossip  and 
carping  critic  who  delighted  to  say  that  the  parson's 
house  kept  itself. 

It  will  occasion  no  surprise  to  know  that  Van 
Courtney  felt  perfectly  at  home  here.  There  was 
no  restraint  to  his  feelings,  such  as  is  imposed 
by  the  courtesies  and  obligations  which  propriety 
and  refinement  ever  necessitate  among  well  bred 
people.  Clarissa  had  been  allowed  to  grow  up  sadly 
neglected  in  the  simple  lessons  of  frugality,  industry 
and  womanhood. 

There  was  no  lack  of  religion  in  this  house,  the 
devotions  were  all  observed  with  a  punctilious  re- 
gard for  the  divine  laws.  But  it  was  a  professional 
sort  of  religion,  which  warped  the  intellect  and 
blunted  the  conscience  of  all  who  participated  in  it. 
There  was  little  thought  in  it.  It  never  addressed 
itself  to  the  wrongs  and  miseries  of  this  world. 

The  Rev.  Burleigh  had  a  Sunday  creed,  and  this 
he  taught  to  his  followers.  He  boasted  of  his  creed 
and  his  church,  but  he  never  paused  to  think  that 
true  religion  is  neither  creed  nor  church,  but  right 
life. 

Van  Courtney  w^as  ushered  into  the  home  of  Rev. 
Burleigh  by  little  Bernice.  He  gave  the  child  a  coin 
and  seated  himself  to  await  the  presence  of  Clarissa. 

''Did  you  see  papa?" 

"Yes,  the  old  gentleman  is  having  a  good  time 
with  the  girls.     He  is  smitten  with  Ethel." 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  49 

"Oh,  nonsense,"  sneered  the  girl. 

"Yes  he  is,  we  all  overheard  him,  actually  making 
love  to  her." 

"Not  so  loud,  Charle}^ — mama  will  certainly  hear 
you." 

"It  is  none  of  my  affair.  Let  the  old  fellow  jog 
along.  Ethel's  having  lots  of  fun  at  his  expense, 
and  we  too  are  enjoying  ourselves;  for  while  the 
rats  are  away  the  mice  will  play." 

"You  mustn't  talk  like  that ;  pa's  no  rat,  and,  be- 
sides, Bernice  is  listening  to  you." 

"I've  just  given  the  little  fellow  some  money, 
and  he  will  keep  all  secrets.  The  poor  child 
ought  to  have  been  in  bed  hours  ago,"  said  Van 
Courtney. 

"Well,  you  always  see  him  up  with  me,  and  this 
is  because  papa  is  usually  out  evenings  and  mama 
is  tired  after  tramping  all  around  to  see  the  sick, 
and  attending  society  meetings,  and  retires  very 
early,  and  so  Bernice  keeps  me  company." 

"Well,  Fm  your  company  now." 

"Yes,  I  see  you  are  my  only  companion  for  Ber- 
nice is  fast  asleep." 

And  surely  he  seemed  to  be  in  a  profound  slum- 
ber stowed  away  in  the  big  old-fashioned  arm-chair. 

"Why  did  you  not  come  earlier,  Charley?" 

"I  expected  to  see  you  at  the  grounds,  and  so  went 
directly  there." 

"With  Ethel,  I  presume." 


50  -NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

"No,  I  don't  tie  to  her  any  more." 

"Since  when?"  she  asked. 

"Since  you  promised  to  be  solely  mine." 

"Yes,  this  is  all  well  enough  for  you  to  tell  me, 
but  Ethel  says  that  you  and  she  are  engaged,  and 
have  been  for  years." 

"Oh,  don't  mind  that  giddy  girl.  We  have  never 
been  more  than  friends.  Did  Ethel  really  tell  you 
that?" 

"No,  she  told  papa  and  he  told  me." 

"Oh,  I  see,  that  was  only  for  a  bluff." 

"Well,  let  me  ask,  did  not  you  two  go  together 
in  Washington  for  some  two  or  three  years?" 

"Yes,  but  that  does  not  signify." 

"Anyhow,  she  tells  people  around  here  that  you 
are  her  prospective " 

"What?"  interrupted  Van  Courtney. 

"You  well  understand  me.  Why,  her  husband, 
of  course." 

"Well,  my  dear,  let  us  talk  of  something  else," 
said  he,  drawing  his  chair  nearer  to  her.  "You 
know  that  I  am  pledged  to  you.  I  can  only  love 
one  being  at  a  time.     I  love  you  and  only  you." 

He  raised  her  head,  taking  it  in  both  hands,  and 
pressed  a  kiss  to  her  lips. 

''Soon  we  will  be  one  and  inseparable.  We'll  live 
in  that  beautiful  city  of  magnificent  distances,  and 
then  Ethel  will  cease  to  link  my  name  with  hers." 

"Let  us  not  talk  of  her,"  she  said  petulantly.     "I 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  51 

believe  all  that  you  tell  me,  only  Fm  a  little  foolish 
at  times.  Why  should  I  doubt  you  and  your  words. 
You  are  all,  and  in  all  to  me." 

''Now,  you  show  yourself  to  be  a  sensible  little 
body — a  fit  companion  for  a  man  of  my  ambition. 
If  you  will  only  trust  me,  and  cling  to  me  you'll 
never  be  bothered  by  silly  things  which  people  may 
say  to  arouse  your  jealousy." 

"You  are  so  good  and  amiable  that  no  one  could 
help  loving  you,  Charley." 

"No,  you  mistake  me;  I  am  not  good." 

"Yes,  you  are  good  to  me,  and  that  is  all  I  care 
about.  And  papa  likes  you,  too.  He  thinks  you 
are  so  jolly." 

"Yes,  I  think  he  should  like  me." 

"Why?"  asked  Clarissa. 

"Because  he  supposes  Ethel  is  my  girl,  and  he 
wants  to  get  a  cinch  on  her." 

"And  you  want  to  get  his  girl,"  retorted  Clar- 
issa. 

"Yes,  you  are  his  daughter,  and  my  girl,  and 
Ethel  is  the  daughter  of  her  mama  and  anybody's 
girl." 

"I  don't  understand  your  last  reference." 

"I  mean  simply  that  Ethel  is  a  flirt  and  a  daring 
one.     She  never  had  a  serious  intention." 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  know  whereof  you  affirm," 

"I  know  her  all  too  well." 


5^  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

''Well,  we  won't  say  anything  more  about  Ethel. 
Is  it  agreed?" 

"I  agree  to  anything  you  may  propose,  except 
one  thing." 

"And  what  is  that,  pray?" 

"You  have  said  that  you  wouldn't  join  me  in 
Washington  until  next  summer.  I  do  not  see  how 
I  could  live  without  you  all  that  time.  In  less  than 
a  fortnight  from  now,  I  must  leave  you  and  report 
for  duty.  My  leave  of  absence  will  then  have  ex- 
pired." 

"My  papa  has  said  that  I  am  not  to  marry  until 
I  am  eighteen^  and  that  will  not  be  until  June  after 
next." 

"Oh,  hang  the  idea.  It  is  all  well  enough  to  lis- 
ten to  the  old  folks  in  ordinary  matters,  but  in  af- 
fairs of  this  sort  it  is  not  for  them  to  decide.  They 
do  not  bring  lovers  together,  and  they  have  no 
right  to  separate  them." 

"Do  you  think  that  a  year  would  work  a  separa- 
tion of  our  love,  Charley  ?" 

"I  only  mean  to  say  that  delays  are  dangerous." 

"How  could  a  delay  affect  our  love?"  she  asked 
tremulously. 

"Well,  for  instance,  some  other  fellow  might 
step  in  and  cut  me  out." 

"This  talk  is  not  worthy  our  serious  attention. 
Love  begets  perfect  confidence  as  well  as  love." 

"If  your  love  was  strong  and  unyielding  like  that 


"NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  63 

of  mine,  then  you  would  be  in  a  position  to  dictate 
the  situation.  Let  me  present  you  the  situation. 
You  do  not  see  your  way  clear  to  be  absolutely  mine 
— by  the  strong  arm  of  the  law,  until  more  than  a 
year  shall  have  passed.  I,  on  the  other  hand,  w^ould 
surmount  all  barriers  and  claim  you  as  my  own  this 
very  year." 

Clarissa  looked  up  in  his  face  with  earnest  be- 
seeching eyes.  She  resolved  henceforth  to  yield 
implicit  obedience  to  the  man  who  had  taught  her 
her  first  duty  of  love,  and  she  was  sure  she  loved 
Charley  and  Charley  loved  her. 

And  thus  it  was  agreed  between  this  man  and 
wayward  girl  that  he  should  return  to  Washington, 
make  all  necessary  arrangements  for  his  bride,  and 
then  in  December  they  would  be  married  clandes- 
tinely, and  all  would  be  well. 

Little  Bernice  was  a  precocious,  but  reticent 
child.  He  had  been  admonished  by  his  parents  not 
to  repeat  anything  he  heard  for  Mr.  Burleigh  had 
said  he  *  always  abhorred  tattlers." 

Bernice,  therefore,  said  nothing  to  his  parents 
about  the  strange  conversation  of  the  evening  in 
question,  although  he  had  heard  and  remembered 
most  of  it,  more  especially  the  unsavory  portions. 

Mr.  Burleigh  on  reaching  home  found  Van 
Courtney  there.  The  young  man  attempted  to 
apologize  for  not  having  kept  his  word  to  return 
to  the  entertainment,  but  Mr.  Burleigh  helped  him 


54  'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

out  by  saying  that  it  was  not  noticed  that  he  had 
promised  to  see  them  again  that  evening. 

The  preacher  bade  the  suitor  a  cheerful  good- 
night, and  little  Bernice  hastened  to  bed  eager  for 
the  morrow  when  he  should  startle  the  "sweet  Miss 
Merna"  with  the  strange  happenings  of  the  night 
before. 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  55 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

TOUSSAINT  WOULD   FOLLOW   WHERE   MERNA  LEADS. 

"I  AM  constantly  telling  you  that  I  have  a  pas- 
sion for  flowers,  especially  those  to  be  found  outside 
the  hothouse." 

The  speaker  was  Merna  Attaway.  The  person 
addressed  was  Toussaint  Ripley.  She  was  attired, 
as  was  her  custom  at  this  season,  in  a  clinging  gar- 
ment of  some  soft  white  material.  The  only  decora- 
tion she  wore  was  a  bunch  of  buttercups  in  her 
hair,  which  in  the  simplicity  of  its  arrangement  af- 
forded a  charming  framework  for  that  benign  coun- 
tenance. Psyche  when  at  her  best  never  appeared 
among  the  flowers  fwith  more  queenly  grace  than 
Merna  in  the  midst  of  those  growing  in  aunt  Mar- 
garet's little  garden. 

In  one  hand  she  held  a  watering  pot,  the  other, 
extended  to  Toussaint,  contained  a  rose  which  she 
had  plucked  for  him. 


56  'NEITHER  BOXD  NOR  FREE. 

"1  observe  that  you  are  generous  to  a  fault,"  he 
said  on  taking  the  flower.  ''You  have  chosen  to 
give  me  this  brilliant  red  rose,  while  you,  with  all 
your  passion  for  flowers,  are  content  to  wear  a  few 
field  buttercups." 

"All  honor  to  whom  honor  is  due.  This  rose  is 
not  only  brilliant,  but  it  is  an  ambitious  flower." 

"It  seems  fitting  that  you  should  wear  it,"  said 
Merna. 

"It  is  rather  more  than  I  deserve,  but  for  your 
sake  I  shall  not  only  wear  this  rose,  but  shall  adopt 
the  flower  as  emblematic — according  to  your  in- 
terpretation of  myself.  And  you  have  chosen  the 
poisonous  buttercup  to  wear.  Why  not  the  lily  of 
the  valley?  I  regard  it  as  peculiarly  appropriate 
for  your  company.  It  is  a  thing  of  beauty  and  an 
emblem  of  purity." 

"It  is  true  that  I  usually  regale  myself  with  the 
buttercup;  that  is,  since  I  have  been  in  this  place, 
but  it  is  not  the  flower  of  my  adoption,  nor,  as  you 
well  see,  of  my  avoidance.  I  love  all  flowers,  and 
I  suppose  quite  equally.  It  is  the  perfume  of  the 
flow^er  and  its  beauty  which  engage  and  delight  the 
senses.  This  gentle,  modest  buttercup,  you  assert, 
W'Ould  prove  injurious  if  eaten.  And  the  lily  you 
mention  as  the  emblem  of  purity  is  said  to  be  deadly 
poisonous  if  eaten.  I  have  sometimes  thought  that 
we  are  often  inclined  to  go  out  of  our  way  looking 
for  imperfections  in  nature.     Let  us  remember  that 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  57 

""  'III  every  little  flower  and  blade  of  grass, 
Each  opening  hud,  and  care  perfected  seed, 
Is  as  a  page  where  we  may  read  of  God/ '' 

"That  is  a  beautiful  sentiment,  Merna.  You  al- 
ways seem  equal  to  the  occasion." 

"It  is  rather  the  occasion  that  teaches  me,"  ob- 
served Merna. 

"And  our  meetings  are  occasions  in  which  my 
moral  horizon  seems  enlarged.  This,  of  course, 
results  from  contact  with  one  possessed  of  much 
charity  and  tolerance.  I  should  delight  to  sit  al- 
ways at  your  feet  and  feel  myself  being  gradually 
transformed  into  a  sturdy  champion  of  right,"  he 
said. 

"There  is  no  transforming  influence  in  me,  and 
therefore  contact  with  me  could  confer  no  such  dis- 
tinction upon  any  one,"  she  replied. 

"Some  natures,  you  have  observed,  are  more  sus- 
ceptible than  others,  Merna.  If  we  are  to  enlist  our 
joint  sympathies  and  efforts  along  certain  lines  of 
endeavor,  it  will  encompass  my  desire.  I  will  then 
feel  that  I  am  thenceforth  a  champion  for  right,  and 
you,  no  doubt,  will  be  constant  and  loyal  to  the 
champion." 

"Constant  and  loyal  to  the  champion?"  she  re- 
peated. "What  has  this  to  do  with  right  en- 
deavor? This,  I  think,  implies  constancy  to  a  type 
rather  than  to  an  individual,  loyalty  to  a  cause  rather 


58  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

than  to  its  champion,  to  an  idea  rather  than  to  a 
person." 

''If,  back  of  the  idea,  or  the  cause,  I  may  pose 
as  the  little  champion,  I  shall  be  satisfied,"  remarked 
Toussaint. 

"If  your  work  in  any  department  of  life  counts 
for  anything  be  assured  you  will  wan  the  plaudits 
of  all  right  thinking  people.  Is  this  the  goal  you 
desire?"  asked  Merna. 

"No,  I  can't  say  that  I  have  any  hankering  after 
general  plaudits." 

"I  rather  like  that  expression.  I  advise  that  you 
let  the  'general  plaudits'  go,"  said  Merna. 

"This  was  at  best  a  doubtful  compliment,"  thought 
Toussaint.  "The  approval  of  my  work  on  your 
part  is  sufficient." 

"Well,  let  us  begin  the  good  work  soon,"  she  re- 
plied. 

"When?     Where?"  he  asked. 

"To-day  we  will  begin.  Aunt  Margaret  tells  me 
of  a  sad  case  of  destitution  close  at  hand.  A  poor 
old  woman  is  sick.  She  lives  in  a  wretched  hovel, 
and  has  been  confined  to  her  bed  for  more  than 
two  months  without  the  plainest  necessities  of  life." 

"I  suggest  that  we  report  the  case  to  the  poor- 
house  authorities.  I  will,  also,  invite  help  for  her 
by  causing  a  statement  to  be  published  in  the  news- 
paper here." 

"I  have  a  better  and  more  remedial  plan,  I  think. 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  69 

than  that.  It  is  this.  We  will  together  go  there. 
Aunt  Margaret  will  prepare  a  basket  of  food  for 
the  poor  woman,  and  I  will  gather  her  a  bunch  of 
flowers." 

"Well,  what  am  I  to  do?" 

"You  will  take  my  Bible  and  read  to  her  a  chap- 
ter from  it." 

Aunt  Margaret,  whose  generosity  was  proverbial, 
soon  filled  a  basket  with  delicacies  for  the  sick 
woman,  and  Merna  and  Toussaint  were  off  on  their 
errand  of  mercy. 

This  was  a  new  role  for  Mr.  Ripley,  and  yet  one 
in  which  he  had  been  placed  by  circumstances  of 
his  own  making.  He  had  been  a  frequent  visitor 
during  the  past  few  weeks  at  the  Lockleys  and  he 
was  sure  that  he  already  loved  Merna,  and  that  she 
would  early  reciprocate  that  feeling.  And  why? — 
surely  not  from  anything  she  had  spoken,  much 
less  acted.  You  may  call  this  a  mere  suspicion  of 
his  make-up.  I  denominate  it  effrontery,  and  charge 
it  to  his  inordinate  pride. 

"It  was  of  no  small  moment,"  he  reckoned,  if 
this  girl  was  something  less  responsive  to  his  capti- 
vating voice  and  earnest  pleadings  than  what  he 
desired ;  she  was,  nevertheless,  profoundly  interested 
in  him. 

He  was  sincere,  perfectly  sincere  in  his  desire  to 
become  a  champion  of  right.  And  yet  he  had  no 
definite  line  of  action,  and  worse  than  all,  no  time 


60  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

designated  in  which  to  begin  operations.  It  would 
have  seemed  more  than  insolence  to  have  charged 
him  with  permitting  any  selfish  consideration  to 
lure  him  in  the  path  of  simple  duty.  And,  yet,  it 
must  be  said,  that  because  of  Merna,  and  not  in 
spite  of  her,  he  was  ready  and  willing  to  make  any 
sacrifice  she  might  name. 

He  resolved  that,  with  the  word  of  command 
from  Merna  he  would  gird  on  the  armor  and  hence- 
forth cease  to  be  a  vainglorious  worlding.  He  be- 
lieved he  loved  this  girl,  and  he  w^ould  follow 
wherever  she  led. 

He  sometimes,  however,  wavered  in  his  resolves. 
He  thought  Merna  too  self-willed.  She  seemed 
dominated  by  a  love  for  humanity,  strangely  dif- 
ferent from  that  which  he  desired. 

Her  horizon  was  much  too  large  for  him.  But, 
then,  love  begets  love,  and  it  is  neither  the  creature 
of  judgment  nor  of  the  will.  It  is  a  capricious 
thing — a  wild  delight,  an  intoxicating  pleasure.  But 
then,  this  is  so  sweet.  Who  in  its  pursuit  would  be 
dismayed? 

Surely  such  a  tender  sympathetic  creature  could 
not  exist,  he  argued,  without  the  consoling  thought 
that  she  was  loved  by  one,  to  the  exclusion  of  every 
other  being.  He  could  not  clearly  discern  from  his 
point  of  view  how  any  one  could  be  loyal  to  a 
cause,  except  there  was  subsidiary  to  it  the  serving 
of  self-interest. 


'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  61 

Merna  had  told  Toussaint  something  of  the  quiet 
but  effective  missionary  work  she  and  "dear  Mrs. 
Burleigh"  had  done  since  they  first  met.  She  had 
declared  that  she  loved  to  befriend  the  poor,  and 
that  it  was  a  source  of  comfort  and  never  failing 
happiness  to  help  them,  if  only  by  a  cheering  word 
of  love.  And  thus  it  was,  Toussaint,  who  had  no 
predilection  for  any  quiet  unostentatious  work, 
would  go  with  Merna  and  do  her  bidding. 

The  sick  woman  was  indeed  grateful  to  the  be- 
nevolent young  people,  who  had  bestowed  such  at- 
tention on  her.  And  Toussaint — selfish  creature — 
felt  that  he  was  growing  to  be  both  good  and  use- 
ful. On  their  way  homeward  these  two  people  grew 
somewhat  confiding,  now  that  they  were  enlisting 
their  best  endeavors  in  the  same  righteous  cause. 

"I  have  never  felt  happier  than  I  now  feel,"  he 
remarked. 

"Good  deeds  bring  their  own  reward,  here  as 
\vell  as  hereafter,"  quietly  observed  Merna. 

"And  to  think,"  he  said,  "that  I  owe  my  happi- 
ness all  to  you." 

"Not  to  me,  Mr.  Ripley.  All  things  pure  and 
good  come  from  above." 

"That  is  all  true,  but  there  are  earthly  agents — 
angels,  I  may  say,  who  are  the  instruments  of 
bringing  good  to  others.  Just  think  of  it.  Here 
is  your  dog  who,  pursuing  a  squirrel  on  that  event- 


62  NEITHER  BOIUD  NOR  FREE. 

ful  afternoon  was  the  unconscious  instrument  for 
this  and  other  happy  meetings  of  ours." 

"It  will  be  my  pleasure  to  increase  your  happi- 
ness by  having  you  accompany  me  on  my  pilgrim- 
ages to  the  suffering,  as  often  as  you  desire.  Mrs. 
Burleigh,  who  usually  attends  me  on  these  visits, 
will  also  be  delighted  to  have  you  go  with  us." 

*'We  might  overcrowd  the  little  sick  room,  if  we 
ventured  in  by  threes,  and  I,  therefore,  suggest  that 
as  between  Mrs.  Burleigh  and  myself  we  take  it 
by  turns  with  you,  as  you  never  seem  to  tire." 

"No,  I  do  not  tire;  it  is  a  recreation  to  go  out 
these  delightful  mornings  and  afternoons  to  talk 
and  read  to  the  unfortunate  and  neglected  of  our 
race." 

"I  confess  that  I  had  never  thought  of  this  be- 
fore, and  yet  I  know  dozens  of  cases  of  destitution, 
cases  which  beggar  description." 

"These  cases,  I  think,  should  be  brought  to  the 
attention  of  the  churches,"  remarked  Merna. 

"Not  to  the  churches  of  this  community,  nor 
elsewhere,  if  I  have  been  correctly  advised.  There 
is  far  more  selfishness  within  the  pale  of  the  church 
than  without.  The  church  will  sometimes  provide 
for  a  sick  or  distressed  member  of  its  flock,  but  re- 
member that  the  majority  of  the  destitute  belong  to 
no  church.  There  is  so  much  fierce  competition  in 
the  church  in  the  way  of  gay  bonnets  and  costly 
dresses  that  many  devout  souls   feel   that   they   are 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  63 

not  wanted  there.  Mrs.  A's  cook  occupies  a  fine 
pew  in  a  costly  edifice,  and  she  does  her  best  to 
vie  with  her  employer  on  Sunday,  in  the  matter 
of  dress." 

"There  is  certainly  a  great  reform  needed  in 
these  matters,"  said  Merna. 

"Well,  who  is  to  lead  the  reform?  The  minister 
acts  as  if  he  is  doing  his  whole  duty  in  teaching  men 
how  to  die;  but  until  he  learns  to  teach  men 
how  to  live,  he  is  omitting  a  prime  necessity.  The 
growth  for  the  spiritual  kingdom  is  to  take  root 
here  on  earth,"  remarked  Toussaint. 

"The  preacher  has  his  work,  and  his  responsi- 
bility for  its  performance.  We  each  have  ours. 
You  have  intimated  your  position  concerning  these 
reforms.  Have  you  set  yourself  to  work  along  any 
line?"  she  inquired. 

"I  have  spoken  of  the  minister  and  his  duty." 

"Yes,  and  you  have  spoken  of  humanity,  and 
that  suggests  to  the  rescue  everybody ;  not  alone  the 
preacher,  but  as  well  the  teacher." 

"I  shall  always  feel  grateful  for  the  many  words 
of  counsel  and  good  cheer  you  have  spoken.  I 
cannot  resist  the  thought  that  you  have  taken  some 
interest  in  me.  All  your  speech  to  me  has  been 
golden — nothing  like  it  has  ever  come  to  me  before, 
from  any  one." 

"I  want  you  to  feel  that  I  am  interested  in  you; 
your  welfare  is  measurably  my  welfare,"  she  said. 


64  IVEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

''Measurably,"  he  uttered,  half  to  himself  and 
half  to  her.  And  then  he  hastened  to  say,  ''And 
you  know,  Merna,  that  I  am  much  attached  to  you. 
I  have  thought  of  you  with  a  persistency  which  I 
am  half  ashamed  to  confess." 

"And  since  when?" 

"Since  the  hour  I  first  knew  you." 

"I  hope  you  may  never  have  cause  to  think  of 
me  less  persistently  than  you  now  do." 

"Are  you  really  in  earnest?" 

"I  am  in  earnest,  and  I  do  not  feel  'ashamed' 
to  confess  it  either." 

Toussaint  looked  askance  at  the  girl  by  his  side, 
and  he  imagined  he  discovered  in  that  look  an 
amused  expressed.  "Perhaps  that  look  signifies  the 
awakening  of  a  special  feeling  of  interest  in  my- 
self," he  thought. 

When  they  reached  the  Lockleys'  home,  Merna 
thanked  Toussaint  for  having  so  graciously  assisted 
her  in  the  little  mission. 

"And  I  sincerely  thank  you,"  replied  Toussaint, 
with  much  feeling.  "I  have  no  words  to  express 
the  joy  and  happiness  which  you  have  been  the 
means  this  day  of  affording  me." 


t? EITHER  BOXD  NOR  FREE,  65 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  PICNIC  FOLLOWED  BY  A  STORM. 

There  were  few  good  roads  in  the  county  of 

E ,  and  this  is  but  a  specimen  of  the  condition 

of  the  highways  as  they  exist  to-day  in  many  parts 
of  the  fair  Southland.  This  section  of  the  country 
was  rapidly  recovering  from  the  devastation 
wrought  by  the  war  between  the  States.  The  in- 
habitants of  the  place  were  gradually  rising  from 
the  seat  of  "do  nothing/'  and  extending  a  welcome 
hand  to  the  Northern  capitalists  settling  for  business 
pursuits  in  their  midst. 

In  a  word,  the  Wand  of  progress  touched  every 
crude  material,  every  dormant  enterprise,  every 
lethargic  soul — everything  hereabout  save  the 
country  road.  Whenever  a  road  became  impassa- 
ble or  unfit  for  the  use  of  man  or  beast,  a  new 
way  or  byway  was  appropriated  by  and  for  the 
travelling  public. 

Mildred  Grove  was  distant  about  five  miles  from 
the  town  of  H .   This  spot,  now  famous  in  song 


66  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

and  story,  had  been  used  for  many  years  antedat- 
ing the  life  of  the  oldest  inhabitant  as  a  resort  for 
those  in  quest  of  summer  sports,  such  as  tourna- 
ments, picnics,  horse  races,  barbecues  and  other 
festivities. 

And  thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the  Sunday  schools 
of  the  three  Baptist  churches  of  the  town  had  ad- 
vertised a  union  picnic  which  attracted  both  the 
young  and  old  in  large  numbers  to  Mildred  Grove, 
one  bright  summer  day  towards  the  latter  part  of 
July. 

There  had  been  a  continuous  drought  for  several 
weeks  past,  and  in  consequence  vegetation  suffered 
and  farmers  complained.  The  sloughs  of  the  old 
road  had  long  since  dried  up,  and  these  plague 
spots,  too  numerous  to  reckon,  w^ere  temporarily 
converted  into  receptacles  for  the  dust,  w^here  the 
wind  in  a  flurry  could  play  hide  and  seek. 

Among  the  great  gathering  that  disported  them- 
selves in  the  grove  were  Van  Courtney  and  Ethel 
Gay.  They  appeared  to  enter  thoroughly  into  all 
the  diversions  of  the  day.  He  was  ever  by  her 
side,  so  much  that  it  was  wdiispered  on  every  hand 
that  this  attractive  couple  would  scon  leave  the  bliss- 
ful portals  of  betrothment  to  enter  the  enchanted 
region  of  a  nuptial  ceremony. 

Van  Courtney  and  Ethel  were  so  much  absorbed 
in  one  another,  that  when  he  proposed  to  her  to  take 
a  stroll,  little  or  no  heed  was  given  to  the  slow 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  G? 

but  steady  preparation  of  the  people  to  leave  the 
grounds  for  their  homes.  The  sun  was  then  about 
two  and  a  half  hours  high.  They  strolled,  hand  in 
hand,  leisurely  along  the  winding  path  thickly 
flanked  on  either  side  by  trees  and  shrubbery  until 
presently  they  reached  a  spot  quite  excluded  from 
the  gaze  of  the  curious,  and  answering  somewhat 
the  description  of  a  ravine.  Here  they  halted,  and 
the  girl  took  from  Van  Courtney's  arm  her  zephyr 
shawl  and,  spreading  the  same  on  the  grass,  seated 
herself  beside  the  fellow  already  stretched  at  full 
length  on  the  sward.  For  more  than  an  hour  they 
remained  in  this  sequestered  place,  oblivious  of  the 
passing  sunshine,  heedless  of  the  gathering  storm, 
conscious  only  of  their  own  turpitude  and  yet  sans 
peur  et  sans  reproche. 

These  two  people  might  have  lingered  longer  in 
this  spot,  but  their  intercourse  was  interrupted  by 
Ethel,  who  exclaimed — ''Listen,  do  you  hear  that 
thunder  ?" 

They  arose  simultaneously  to  their  feet  and  to- 
gether, gazing  upwards,  saw  the  heavy  black  clouds 
mounting  rapidly  up  the  heavens  with  accompani- 
ments of  thunder  peals  and  occasional  flashes  of 
lightning. 

"We  must  hurry  and  join  the  crowd  or  else  we'll 
be  drenched,"  said  Van  Courtney. 

"Yes,  we  must  hurry,"  she  replied,  "for  it  is 
late." 


68  l^EITEER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

''Not  very  late.  It  is  this  gathering  cloud  which 
makes  it  appear  late,"  he  observed. 

'True,  it  was  not  already  dark.  He  could  have 
told  the  time  by  his  watch,  but  he  made  no  attempt 
to  consult  it.  His  thoughts  were  turned  in  another 
direction.  He  was  much  concerned  about  that  swell 
summer  suit,  which,  with  its  showy  belongings, 
made  him  quite  radiant  and  happy.  He  cared  less 
for  the  discomfiture  of  the  fair  companion  with  him 
than  for  his  own  plight.  ''Damn  the  rain,"  he  mut- 
tered. And  then  he  grew  sullen,  and  Ethel  had  to 
content  herself  with  monosyllabic  replies  to  her 
frivolous  questions. 

The  clouds  the  meanwhile  continued  to  gather. 
The  lightning  came  in  more  rapid  succession.  The 
thunder  reverberated  and  the  distant  rumble  grew 
lengthy. 

When  Ethel  and  Van  Courtney  had  gained  the 
pavilion  where  the  gay  throng  had  hours  before 
held  high  carnival,  there  was  no  one  to  be  found. 
These  pilgrims  hurried  away  from  the  grounds  as 
fast  as  their  feet  could  carry  them.  They  passed 
through  the  old  farm  gate  which  opened  into  the 
main  or  principal  county  road,  and  on  they  trudged 
for  half  a  mile,  plodding  through  rain  and  mud, 
for  the  storm  had  begun  in  earnest.  When  they 
reached  the  point  where  the  new  road  made  its  way 
into  the  old,  it  was  now  well  nigh  dark  and  they 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  69 

failed  to  notice  the  new  road,  but  continued  to  wend 
their  way  over  the  old  thoroughfare. 

The  rain  poured  in  torrents,  the  'way  was  all  the 
more  uncertain  because  of  the  uncanny  and  fitful 
light  from  the  zig-zag  lightning,  mingled  with  the 
gloom  which  surrounded  the  departing  day. 

"Where  are  the  houses  we  saw  on  our  way  out 
here  this  morning?"  queried  Ethel. 

''I  have  been  thinking  that  we  must  have  missed 
our  way,"  dubiously  replied  Van  Courtney. 

"Surely  we  have,  for  the  road  we  came  over 
was  thickly  studded  with  cottages,  large  and  small, 
pretty  and  ugly,"  said  the  girl. 

"What  shall   we "   and  then  a  terrific  flash 

followed  by  tremendous  thunder  peals  caused  the 
speaker  to  shudder,  and  he  forgot  his  lines. 

The  tempest  Was  now  on  in  all  its  fury,  and  it 
proved  awe-inspiring  even  to  such  a  hardened  repro- 
bate as  Van  Courtney. 

"What  was  I  saying  a  moment  ago?"  he  in- 
quired. 

The  voice  betrayed  a  certain  restlessness,  although 
he  had  affected  to  speak  with  his  usual  bravado. 
Ethel  nestled  closer  to  his  side,  and  bade  him 
"h-u-s-h." 

And  these  two  pilgrims  were  again  silent.  It 
seemed  an  awful  silence,  broken  only  by  the  guttural 
sounds  which  came  from  the  numerous  frogs  in  the 
ditches  and  ponds  hard  by. 


'iO  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

"Ah,  there  is  a  light,"  uttered  the  girl,  in  a 
voice  which  betrayed  her  sobs. 

"Where?''  he  inquired. 

"Don't  you  see  that  little  house  on  the  left  hand 
side  of  the  road  yonder?" 

It  was  difficult,  not  to  say  impossible,  to  dis- 
cern a  house  the  least  distance  off.  But  Ethel  had 
seen  a  light  glowing  from  a  little  window  on  the 
road  side. 

"Yes,  I  see  the  light  distinctly,  and  we  will  tarry 
there  until  the  storm  has  spent  its  force." 

As  they  drew  near  the  house  an  old  woman  who 
had  stood  at  the  window  opened  the  door  as  eagerly 
as  if  in  response  to  the  knock  of  a  welcome  visitor. 

"Lors  sake!  You  chilun  is  soaking  wet.  Come 
to  the  fire  and  dry  yourse'f." 

Ethel  and  Van  Courtney  proceeded  to  obey 
orders,  and  each  taking  a  chair  minus  a  back,  gath- 
ered around  an  old  open  fireplace,  which  had  either 
been  in  use  for  many  years,  or  else  its  clumsy  con- 
struction had  invited  its  rapid  decay.  A  pair  of 
broken  andirons  supported  by  fragments  of  stone, 
had  heaped  upon  them  brushwood  which  was  strug- 
gling to  burn  amidst  the  almost  suffocating  smoke 
caused  by  a  disordered  chimney.  Two  cadaverous 
looking  cats,  with  a  stony  stare,  lay  purring  in  the 
ashes,  and  on  the  edge  of  an  old  cupboard  was 
perched  a  dove  whose  mournful  notes  singularly 
fitted  the  fearful  storm  now  raging  in  all  its  fury 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  71 

without.  Jack,  a  well-grown  dog,  whose  ribs  could 
be  counted,  was  not  content  to  remain  in  his 
usual  resting  place  under  the  house,  for  he  had 
throughout  the  storm  been  making  impatient  rounds 
of  the  house  prying  his  nose  into  all  the  cracks  that 
could  be  found.  The  howling  of  a  dog  sometimes 
preys  on  strong  nerves  when  otherwise  above  and 
around  us  everything  seems  to  go  well.  The  ani- 
mal had  come  to  the  door  and  given  vent  to  his  dire 
distress  in  lamentations  loud  and  strong. 

This  Nvas  too  much  for  Ethel.  She  half  arose 
from  her  seat  and  begged  Swepsy  to  drive  the  dog 
away.  Swepsy  yielded  a  prompt  compliance,  for  she 
was  eager  to  have  the  strangers  feel  perfectly  at 
home  under  her  roof.  She  had  removed  a  steaming 
pot  of  what  proved  to  be  sassafras  tea  from  the  fire, 
and  begged  the  young  people  to  have  a  cup  with 
her.  She  did  not  delay  preparation  for  an  answer, 
but  busied  herself  placing  a  huge  bowl  and  two 
cups  and  saucers,  much  battered  and  otherwise  dis- 
figured from  constant  use,  on  an  old  pine  table 
partly  concealed  from  view  by  an  age-ridden  cloth  of 
yellowish  cast,  which  contained  many  a  smear  and 
blotch. 

The  old  'woman  in  a  naive  manner,  yet  brusque, 
signalled  the  young  folks  to  her  humble  meal. 

Nothing  would  have  been  a  more  unseemly  ex- 
hibition of  bad  manners  than  to  refuse  such  a  gen- 
erous invitation. 


t2  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

The  three  sat  down  to  tea,  and  while  Van  Court- 
ney only  sipped  a  little  of  the  beverage,  Ethel  man- 
aged to  make  away  wath  one  cup  of  it.  Meanwhile 
the  old  woman  had  actually  filled  and  refilled  her 
bowl. 

Swepsy,  who  had  at  times  generous  impulses, 
had  felt  genuine  sympathy  for  the  two  bedrabbled 
people  now  temporarily  her  guests. 

She  sat  erect,  holding  in  one  hand  the  steaming 
sassafras,  her  eyes  riveted  upon  Van  Courtney  with 
a  most  inquisitive  gaze.  Then,  recovering  herself, 
she  slowdy  asked  with  a  certain  dogged  determina- 
tion, "Are  you  a  stranger  here?" 

"Yes,  I  am  somewhat  a  stranger  in  these  parts, 
and  totally  one  here." 

Swepsy  w^as  sure  of  her  man,  she  well  knew  the 
possessor  of  that  sallow  skin,  those  deep,  sunken 
bluish  eyes,  that  sharp  countenance,  and  that  aqui- 
line nose.  The  congregation  on  that  June  Sunday 
w^as  not  too  large,  nor  the  ceremonies  so  inspiring 
as  to  destroy  her  memory  of  the  stranger,  at  once 
so  insolent  and  arrogant.  She  had  told  her  neigh- 
bors about  the  "yaller  dog"  w^ho  had  made  merry 
at  her  expense,  and  in  all  the  weeks  that  had  passed 
she  nursed  that  most  stubborn  and  usual  resentment. 

Swepsy,  looking  intently  in  the  empty  bowl, 
slowly  said,  "I  see  you  are  both  strangers  in  these 
parts." 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  73 

"What?  What?"  eagerly  inquired  Van  Courtney 
and  Ethel. 

"This  is  my  book,  and  in  it  I  read  what  has  been 
and  what  is  to  be,"  said  the  old  woman,  tapping  the 
bowl  with  her  spoon. 

"Suppose  you  tell  us  our  fortunes,"  said  Ethel. 

"If  you  want  your  fortunes  told,  lay  a  piece  of 
silver  in  the  palm  of  my  hand  and  make  a  wish — 
not  loud,  but  to  yourse'f." 

She  placed  a  fifty  cent  coin  in  Swepsy's  hand  and 
wished  the  several  things  she  would  have  happen. 

The  girl  was  told  to  twirl  the  cup  around  three 
times  with  the  mouth  downward.  Ethel  complied. 
The  seeress  began. 

"You  come  from  away." 

"From  where?"  asked  Ethel. 

"From  across  deep  water." 

"Yes,  go  on,"  said  the  girl. 

"You  have  things  to  worry  you.  Crossed  in 
love — lots  of  beaux.  You  don't  love  but  one  man, 
and  he  is  not  true  to  you." 

"I  only  want  to  know  one  thing.  Tell  me  if  I 
will  ever  be  married?"  asked  Ethel. 

''No ;  you  are  born  to  be  an  old  maid.  I  see  lots  of 
other  things,  but  they  concern  a  man — a  friend  of 
yours." 

"Oh,  yes,  Van  Courtney.  Then  tell  this  gentle- 
man his  fortune." 

He   followed   instructions   by   twirling  the   cup 


74  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

around  three  times  and  making  the  prescribed  wish. 
He,  too,  gave  the  weazen-faced  woman  a  coin  and 
proceeded  to  be  entertained.  This  was  a  perform- 
ance richly  laden  with  comical  situations,  thought 
Van  Courtney. 

"You,  sir,"  began  Swepsy  in  a  sprightly  vain, 
"don't  b'lieve  in  fortunes." 

"Do  you  see  that  in  the  cup?"  laughed  Van 
Courtney. 

"Yes,  I  see  in  the  cup  that  you  are  careless  and 
onconcerned." 

"Oh,  yes,"  uttered  Van  Courtney,  not  in  the  least 
disconcerted. 

"You  too  has  come  from  across  deep  water.  You 
work  in  house  with  lots  of  people.  Handle  papers 
— don't  you  write  for  a  livin'?" 

Van  Courtney  did  not  condescend  to  reply. 

"You,"  she  went  on,  "are  a  fast  young  man; 
you  are  fond  of  women,  and  drink — like  cards — 
a  sort  o'  dude,  you  know — I  guess  I  won't  tell  you 
any  more  now." 

"Why  not?" 

"I  never  tell  the  bad  I  see  in  the  cup." 

"Oh,  yes;  tell  me  everything.  It  is  only  pas- 
time." 

She  seemed  not  to  heed  his  instructions,  but  con- 
tinued :    "You  are  a  sort  of  wolf.    You  are  making 

love  to  two  girls  in  H at  the  same  time.     A 

preached  has  a  daughter    you    pretend    to    love. 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  75 

Now — "  and  then  she  gave  a  long  sigh.  "You — ; 
well,  look  here  for  yours e'f;  see  that  crowd  of 
people.     Do  you   see  them?" 

"I  see  the  dregs,  if  that  is  what  you  mean." 

''Zactly  so.  That's  excitement.  You'll  make 
trouble  in  some  family.  You'll  be  condemned  and 
hung.  Now,  I  didn't  want  to  tell  you  everything. 
You  would  make  me." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right.  And  here's  another  piece 
of  money  for  your  kind  treatment.  The  rain  is 
over  and  we  will  jog  along." 

"Bless  your  souls.  Whenever  you  come  this 
way,  be  sho'  to  come  to  my  house  and  I  will  be 
glad  to  see  you  both.     Good-bye." 

Van  Courtney  and  Ethel  moved  out  and  passed 
along  the  highway.  The  rain  had  ceased.  The 
moon  was  rising  and  they  could  see  their  way  over 
the  muddy  road. 

"I  don't  understand  that  woman,  after  all*"  he 
said.  "She  told  some  lies,  to  be  sure;  but  some 
things  were  certainly  true.  I  don't  believe  in 
these  silly,  ignorant  people,  but  they  make  us  feel 
real  shaky  at  times." 

"She's  an  old  humbug,"  said  Ethel. 

"Yes,  you  are  right,  but  somehow  her  humbug- 
gery  sticks  to  the  ribs.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
experience  of  this  night.  I  feel  a  strange  sense 
of  some  impending  disaster,"  remarked  Van  Court- 
ney. 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 


CHAPTER  X. 


AT    THE    PARSONAGE. 


In  the  sitting  room  of  the  parsonage  a  few  even- 
ings following  the  picnic  already  narrated,  were 
Charles  Van  Courtney,  Merna  Attaway  ,Toussaint 
Ripley,  Ethel  Gay,  the  Rev.  Burleigh  and  fam- 
ily. The  occasion  was  a  tea  in  honor  of  Mr. 
Van  Courtney,  who  was  about  to  take  leave  of  the 

*'dear  old  town  of  H "  with  all  its  memorable 

associations.  This  was  the  one  room  of  that  unpre- 
tentious cottage  which  delighted  the  proud  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh, who,  indeed,  was  never  so  happy  (if  appear- 
ances counted  for  anything)  as  when  surrounded 
by  a  bevy  of  attractive  young  women,  one  or  more 
of  whom  were  members  of  the  so-called  ''smart  set." 

The  room  in  question  appeared  quite  stuffy  with 
its  overcharge  of  furniture,  good  and  bad.  Here 
and  there  an  antiquated  relic  vied  with  some  flimsy 
piece  of  furniture,  while  the  quaint,  old-fashioned 
mantel  fairly  groaned  under  the  weight  of  its  dust- 
ridden  bric-a-brac,  which  seemed  in  evidence  to  es- 
tablish the  ingenuity  of  the  Yankee  mind  which 


VEITBER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  'J"J' 

could  make  a  heap  of  trash  for  a  Httle  money.  There 
were  many  books,  old  and  new — mostly  old;  some 
jammed  in  the  big  odd-looking  bookcase,  and  others 
heaped  on  the  spacious  old  square  piano,  partly  hid 
from  view  by  its  well  worn  covering.  In  all  this 
mock  parade  of  book  fondness,  the  one  thing  which 
to  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Burleigh  gave  an  air  of  im- 
portance to  this  charmed  precinct,  was  a  large 
crayon  portrait,  life  size,  of  the  minister  and  head 
of  the  household.  This  portrait  seemed  a  veritable 
giant  spread  out  among  the  innumerable  pigmies, 
which  in  small  frames  lined  the  walls  of  the  sanc- 
tum. 

This  was  a  somewhat  incongruous  gathering. 
There  was  a  want  of  mutual  sympathy.  It  lacked 
the  elements  as  well  as  the  aims  and  purposes  which 
mark  a  notable  gathering.  Ethel,  who  could  be 
relied  upon  to  display  on  all  occasions  her  super- 
ficial knowledge,  signalled  to  Van  Courtney  to  as- 
sist her  in  removing  the  books  from  the  piano. 
Presently  she  was  seated  at  the  instrument  strum- 
ming it  in  earnest.  The  fact  that  the  piano  was 
woefully  out  of  tune,  in  nowise  disconcerted  her. 
She  hastened  to  call  attention  to  this  fact  with  the 
remark  that  in  consequence  she  was  not  surprised 
to  know  that  "Charley"  did  not  recognize  his  fa- 
vorite song — "Bright  Eyes." 

"Do  you  like  'Bright  Eyes,'  Charley?"  eagerly  in- 
quired Ethel. 


'J'8  If  EITHER  BOm)  NOR  FREE. 

*'Well — that  depends,"  exolaimed  Van  Courtney. 

^'Depends — depends  upon  what?"  asked  the  girl. 

**Why,  upon  the  owner  of  the  bright  eyes,"  he 
hastily  responded. 

''Oh,  for  a  rest  from  that  bubbling  wit  of  yours," 
observed  Ethel. 

''Yes,  and  from  those  bright  eyes.  I  think  Mr. 
Smith  must  have  had  you  in  mind  when  he  com- 
posed those  verses." 

"Who  is  your  Mr.  Smith,  Charley?" 

"He  is  a  colored  musical  celebrity  of  Cleveland." 

"Ah,  we  are  coming,"  said  Mr.  Burleigh,  who 
had  proven  himself  an  eager  listener  all  the  while. 

"Yes,  and  in  spite  of  prejudice,"  intercepted  Mr. 
Ripley.  "While  I  am  free  to  confess  that  I  do  not 
know  what  special  advantage  is  to  accrue  to  any- 
body from  frivolous  musical  productions,  such  as 
you  often  hear,  and  yet  these,  however,  may  prove 
a  healthy  stimulus  along  really  useful  lines  of  com- 
position work.  All  race  accomplishments.  I  think, 
have  a  strong  tendency  to  lessen  prejudice." 

"This,  then,  is  one  of  your  ideas  of  puncturing 
the  clouds  of  prejudice.  You  believe  that  music — 
light  music — will  make  a  rift  in  the  clouds,"  re- 
marked Merna. 

"Your  allusion  to  my  remark  is  pleasing  and 
graceful.  I  sincerely  trust  that  music  will  eventu- 
ally win  over  the  white  savages  of  prejudice,"  re- 
plied Toussaint. 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  79 

"I  believe  devoutly  in  the  inspiration  and  power 
of  music.  I  mean  the  best  music,  that  which  appeals 
to  the  best  sentiment  in  man.  Give  me  the  weird 
plaintive  airs  as  rendered  by  those  who  saw  planta- 
tion service  before  the  war,  and  I  w^ould  not  ex- 
chang-e  them  for  all  that  I  have  studied  in  the  Bos- 
ton Conservatory  of  Music,"  remarked  Merna. 

"Go  get  your  harp  and  tune  it.  Let  us  not  sit 
down  by  the  river  as  did  the  children  of  old,  and 
weep  as  we  think  of  Zion.  You  sing  and  play. 
Shortly  I  shall  launch  my  craft  on  the  political  sea 
and  then  my  w^ork  to  beat  down  prejudice  will  have 
begun  in  earnest,"  said  Toussaint. 

**I  believe  that  we  have  discussed  this  matter  once 
before.  I  have  not  changed  my  views  since  then. 
Nature  is  a  fact — prejudice  no  less  a  fact.  Will  you 
fly  in  the  face  of  nature  and  prejudice?  Nothing, 
in  my  judgment,  can  be  accomplished  for  our  peo- 
ple by  politics.  A  blessed  mission  is  his  which 
enables  one  to  come  in  contact  with  the  whites 
christianizing  and  civilizing  the  people  by  precept 
and  example,"  said  Merna. 

"I  do  not  think,"  said  Mr.  Burleigh,  "that  you 
can  overcome  the  race  feeling  by  mere  insistence 
of  one's  rights,  either  through  politics  or  otherwise. 
We  talk  greatly  of  the  prejudice  which  w^hite  peo- 
ple manifest  towards  us,  and  we  never  stop  to 
think  that  we,  too,  have  much  prejudice  against  the 
whites.    I  love  everybody.    We  are  weaker  than  the 


80  NEITHER  BOVD  NOR  FREE. 

white  folks.  We  haven't  the  moral  strength,  tlie 
knowledge,  the  wealth  nor  the  love  of  unity  which 
the  white  man  possesses." 

*'I  concur  in  all  that  you  have  said,  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh. Upon  the  shoulders  of  the  young  men  and 
young  women  of  the  race  of  to-day  rests  the  re- 
sponsibility of  piloting  the  race  over  the  tempestu- 
ous seas  of  race  prejudice,  folly  and  vice.  We  ought 
seriously  to  ponder  this  race  question.  We  should 
try  and  get  a  correct  solution  to  the  knotty  ques- 
tions as  they  present  themselves,  and  then  set  about 
to  eradicate  the  existing  evils.  What  is  prejudice, 
anyway?  It  seems  to  me  that  it  grows  out  of  the 
love  of  power,  and  the  love  of  self,  and  is  founded 
upon  racial  differences.  The  closer  the  races  come 
in  contact,  the  more  intense  becomes  the  prejudice. 
The  white  people  are  apparently  more  prejudiced 
as  the  days  go  by.  In  our  competition  with  them, 
measuring  arms,  we  are  meeting  the  natural  re- 
sistance. We  must  take  no  backward  step.  Let 
us  reach  out  for  new  opportunities,  eagerly  grasp- 
ing them  as  they  arise.  Don't  ask  white  people 
for  alms;  ask  them  for  opportunities  for  usefulness. 
We  must  equip  ourselves  with  manhood,  ability, 
character,  industry  and  success  is  surely  ours,"  said 
Merna. 

"What  we  sadly  need  is  equal  industrial  oppor- 
tunities," said  Toussaint. 

"There  must  always  be  a  man  for  an  opportunity. 


I^EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  81 

Greater  industry,  skill,  the  sticking  quality,  honesty 
and  reliability  will  open  the  way  for  new  oppor- 
tunities. Then  Hamptons  with  their  trade  schools 
will  multiply.  If  we  will  only  cultivate  the  saving 
spirit,  cut  loose  from  extravagant  habits,  work  the 
year  round,  encourage  and  assist  one  another  in 
business,  we  will  acquire  and  obtain  wealth  and  this 
will  effectually  dissipate  race  prejudice,"  observed 
Merna. 

"The  future  of  the  negroes  of  the  United  States 
is,  indeed,  a  matter  of  grave  import  to  both  races 
in  this  country,"  uttered  Mr.  Burleigh,  with  great 
deliberation. 

"We  are  not  negroes.  We  are  Afro- Americans," 
ejaculated  Van  Courtney. 

"Charley,  what  have  you  to  do  with  this  negro 
question,  anyway?  You  are  not  a  negro,"  said 
Ethel. 

"Exactly  so.  I  am  an  Afro-American,"  reiter- 
ated Van  Courtney. 

"Mr.  Ripley,  do  you  hear  what  my  learned  friend 
has  to  say?  If  you  intend  to  carry  Africa  into  the 
war,  will  you  take  this  Afro-American  (pointing 
to  Van  Courtney)  along  with  you?"  queried  Ethel. 

"Bravo,"  cried  Mr.  Burleigh,  who  in  his  eager- 
ness to  compliment  anything  Ethel  said,  had 
chuckled  until  his  glasses  slid  off  his  nose. 

"Yes,  Miss  Ethel,  my  friend  Mr.  Van  Courtney 
goes  wherever  the  negro  race  goes.    You  know  that 


8^  -NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

one  drop  of  African  blood  is  sufficient  to  classify 
a  colored  man;  or,  if  you  please,  a  gentleman  with 
2n  aquiline  olfactor  and  bluish  eyes.  No  matter 
how  intelligent,  learned,  cultured  or  wealthy  you 
may  become,  it  is  decreed  by  the  white  man  that 
you  are  a  spurious  counterfeit.  Your  straight  hair 
and  white  complexion  will  not  exempt  you  from  the 
proscription  of  the  mass,"  said  Toussaint. 

"I  wish  to  have  you  amend  your  statement  in  a 
single  particular.  I  do  not  wish  to  go  on  record 
as  having  an  'aquiline  olfactor.'  I  simply  have  a 
prominent  nose,"  said  Van  Courtney. 

"I  stand  corrected,  my  friend." 

At  this  sally  the  laugh  went  round.  Merna  arose 
to  say  good-day  to  host  and  friends;  Toussaint 
joined  her.  Van  Courtney  and  Ethel  lingered  to 
attempt  the  difficult  role  of  a  duet. 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE,  83 


CHAPTER  XL 


AN    OUTLNG   EXPERIENCE. 


And  the  days  glided  merrily  by.  Now  the  day 
on  which  Charles  Van  Courtney  was  to  say  good- 
bye to  his  companions  and  friends  had  come,  and  all 
too  soon  for  this  vain  worldling. 

Van  Courtney  having  learned  that  it  was  the  in- 
tention of  Merna  and  Ethel  shortly  to  take  one  of 
the  early  morning  steamers  and  visit  the  city  of 

and  points  of  interest  adjacent  thereto,  decided 

himself  to  embark  for  the  Capital  City  on  a  morn- 
ing steamer  which  should  leave  the  same  point - 
about  the  same  hour  as  the  one  on  which  they  would 
take  passage.  And  now  they  were  grouped — Merna 
and  Ethel,  Toussaint  and  Van  Courtney — on  the 
big  pier.  A  shrill  whistle  signalled  the  departure 
of  the  craft.  And  then,  amid  the  flutter  of  ker- 
chiefs, the  prow  of  the  beautiful  white  steamer  had 
turned  in  the  direction  leading  to  the  Capital  of  the 
Nation.    Au  revoir,  Van  Courtney! 

A  few  minutes  later  another  boat  came  along- 


84  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

side  the  pier,  and  Toussai;it,  Merna  and  Ethel  were 
soon  on  their  course  in  the  opposite  direction  to 
that  taken  by  Mr.  Van  Courtney.  It  was  a  bright 
and  glorious  day.  A  hazy,  cloud-like  film  curtained 
the  heavens  arching  low  to  the  horizon,  and  the 
gentle  summer  breeze  swept  the  bosom  of  the  deep, 
chasing  its  tiny  billows  far  out  to  sea. 

''As  when  the  sun,  new-risen. 

Looks  through  the  horizontal  misty  air  shorn  of  its 
beams/' 


These  three  souls  gazed  on  the  sea  and  the  sky. 
Ethel  had  a  sort  of  vacant  stare — a  far-away  look 
— as  if  in  retrospect,  Merna  and  Toussaint  seemed 
happy,  but  their  happiness  was  not  identical  nor 
mutual,  but  it  was  worked  by  a  certain  contrariety 
of  feeling.  Their  point  of  view  was  wholly  dif- 
ferent. 

Merna  was  always  charming  in  manner  and  cir- 
cumspect, and  yet  I  cannot  say  that  she  was  a  happy 
creature.  She  had  too  great  concern  for  the  happi- 
ness of  others.  It  was  hard  for  her  to  feel  happy 
in  the  presence  of  the  wTongs  and  miseries  of  this 
life.  She  appeared  at  times  as  keenly  susceptible 
of  the  struggles  and  discouragements  of  others  as 
if  in  her  own  sympathetic  nature  there  was  a  mem- 
ory of  some  similar  experience  which  she  had  sus- 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  85 

tained.  If  her  eager  sympathies  were  not  awakened 
responsive  to  the  thought  of  the  hardships  to  which 
others  had  been  subjected,  then  w^hat?  Was  it  from 
what  is  sometimes  called  the  inexorable  law  of 
heredity — traces  of  the  impress  of  a  memorable  and 
barbaric  institution  on  the  offspring?  Or  was  it 
from  environment  in  Boston,  that  modern  Athens, 
set  like  some  rare  jewel  in  the  heaven  of  New  Eng- 
land liberty? 

But  Toussaint's  happiness  seemed  unalloyed.  He 
was  chiefly  concerned  about  Merna  and  his  love  for 
her.  He  looked  up  and  beUeved  that  unfathomable 
bliss  would  be  his  if  she  would  only  say  that  she 
loved  him. 

Merna  was  a  child  of  nature.  She  gamboled  in 
her  fancy  wdth  the  stars  and  communed  wath  the 
elements.  She  delighted  to  meditate  on  the  works 
of  creation.  And  since  man  was  the  greatest  work 
of  the  Creator,  she  w^as  resolved  to  look  up  and 
lift  up. 

"I  have  such  a  headache,"  said  Ethel. 

"I  am  sorry.  I  had  hoped  that  this  delightful 
trip  would  prove  highly  beneficial  to  you,"  replied 
Merna. 

"You  are  perhaps  a  little  despondent.  Cheer  up. 
Can  I  render  you  any  service?"  asked  Toussaint. 

"Yes.  Get  me,  if  you  please,  some  water  to 
drink." 

Toussaint  instantly  complied  w^ith  the  girl's  re- 


86  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

quest,  and  accompanied  her  to  a  more  comfortable 
seat. 

And  now,  after  an  hour's  run,  the  steamer  ''Mys- 
tic" put  alongside  of  the  dock  of  the  brisk  and 
bustling  Southern  city.  The  numerous  little 
wharves,  separated  by  only  the  narrowest  frith  of 
water,  were  literally  swarming  with  animated 
crowds  of  longshoremen.  Merna  could  not  but  re- 
mark to  her  companions  the  exuberance  of  good 
fellowship  prevalent  among  them;  their  hilarity 
and  beaming  countenances  betraying  thrift  and  con- 
tentment. 

Toussaint,  Merna  and  Ethel  moved  slowly  up  the 
main  thoroughfare  of  the  city.  The  sun  had  rapid- 
ly climbed  up  the  heavens  and  was  scattering  in  all 
directions  his  torrid  rays.  At  the  instance  of 
Merna,  they  halted  in  front  of  a  large  drug  store, 
where  she  and  Ethel  made  numerous  purchases 
of  toilet  and  other  articles  which  were  to  be  shipped 
to  the  town  of  H . 

When  Merna  and  Toussaint  started  to  leave,  they 
observed  that  Ethel  hesitated  to  arise  from  the  seat 
which  she  occupied.  She  explained  to  Merna  that 
the  headache  was  "now  fierce,"  and  the  clerk  was 
importuned  to  administer  some  relief. 

"No,  no,"  said  Ethel.  "No  drugs  for  me.  I  have 
a  horror  of  taking  medicine  of  any  sort.  It  will 
wear  off  presently,  I  hope.  Oh,  I  tell  you,  Mr. 
Clerk,  give  me  some  soda;  a  glass  of  vichy  will 


VEITEER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  87 

help,"  and  turning  to  Merna  and  Toussaint,  she 
requested  them  to  join  her  in  a  "social  glass.'' 
Merna  assented,  saying,  "Vichy  for  me,  too." 

"Come,  hurry  up,"  said  Ethel,  in  a  saucy  vein, 
looking  straight  at  the  clerk,  who  was  eyeing  the 
party  askance. 

With  a  studied  effort  to  appear  polite,  the  clerk 
replied:  "You  are  all  evidently  strangers  in  these 
parts." 

"Strangers  or  friends,"  impatiently  retorted 
Ethel,  "what  we  want  is  the  vichy." 

"Really,  we  do  not  sell  soda  water  to  any  but 
our  customers." 

"Well,  don't  you  consider  this  lady  (pointing  to 
Merna)  your  customer?"  asked  Ethel. 

"Come,  Ethel,  let  us  go,"  said  Merna,  not  wait- 
ing for  the  reply. 

"No ;  what  I  demand  is  some  decent  explanation 
from  this  man,"  was  Ethel's  fiery  response. 

The  clerk,  who  seemed  not  in  the  least  abashed 
or  disconcerted,  hastened  to  say :  "I  see  that  you  all 
appear  to  be  decent  and  nice  colored  people;  and 
thus  I  thought  you  could  take  the  hint.  The  truth 
of  the  matter  is  we  do  not  sell  soda  water  to  any 
person  of  color." 

"That  is  not  true,"  retorted  Ethel,  "for  I  saw 
you  send  a  glass  to  a  servant  girl  in  the  carriage  at 
your  door  just  a  few  minutes  ago." 


8S  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

"The  soda  was  ordered  by  a  white  lady  for  her 
servant,  and  besides,  it  was  not  drunk  in  this  store." 

'*Oh,  I  see;  any  one  can  buy  drugs,  but  if  he  buys 
soda  it  is  necessary  to  put  on  an  apron,  stand  on 
the  outside  and  have  some  white  person  order  the 
water  for  you,"  contemptuously  replied  Ethel. 

As  the  three  left  the  store,  Toussaint  said :  'This 
is  the  South,  and  it  is  an  old  Southern  custom — a 
relic  of  slavery." 

"I  regret  much  that  I  did  not  know  this  before  we 
entered  that  place,"  quietly  observed  Merna. 

"Why,  everywhere  in  this  city  and  throughout 
the  South,  this  sort  of  foolish  prejudice  obtains. 
You  can  buy  a  seidlitz  powder  and  have  the  clerk 
mix  it  in  his  store  for  you,  but  mineral  water  is  con- 
sidered a  luxury  and  is  vended  alone  for  a  favored 
class,"  said  Toussaint. 

"Well,  I  had  heard  about  that  contemptible  ferry 
prejudice,  but  little  did  I  expect  such  meanness  in 
a  drug  store,"  remarked  Ethel. 

"What  about  the  ferry?"  asked  Merna. 

"Mr.  Ripley  can  explain.  He  is  a  product  of  this 
hateful  sod." 

"Yes — I  am  indigenous  to  the  South  and  am 
forced  to  make  the  most  of  the  situation.  If  you 
will  stand  just  where  you  are  for  a  moment  you 
can  feast  your  eyes  on  an  amazing  and  impudent 
example  of  folly  and  racial  prejudice.  You  will 
observe  on   your   right,   a   maudlin   band   of  poor 


-NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  89 

whites,  some  of  whom  can  harely  stand  erect  from 
sheer  dissipation.  Now,  behind  these  are  three  re- 
spected and  highly  respectable  colored  citizens.  One 
is  Bishop  Winton's  brother;  he  is  a  conspicuous 
member  of  the  African  Methodist  Episcopal  Con- 
ference, and  pastor  of  a  prominent  church  in  this 
city ;  another  is  a  leading  lawyer  of  this  section,  and 
enjoys  the  confidence  of  all  who  know  him ;  the  other 
is  a  successful  business  man — a  coal  merchant. 

"Notice  the  drunkards  keep  to  the  right.  They 
sit  in  the  right  hand  cabin  along  with  the  fair 
daughters  and  chivalrous  (as  they  would  have  us 
believe)  men  of  the  South,  and  yet,  you  and  these 
gentlemen  I  have  pointed  out,  must  go  into  another 
cabin,  set  apart  exclusively  for  people  of  color," 
said  Toussaint. 

"But  there  is  a  colored  girl  holding  by  the  hand 
a  flaxen  haired  little  boy ;  do  they,  too,  separate  as 
the  sheep  and  the  goat,"  laughed  Merna. 

"There  you  have  the  farce,"  exclaimed  Toussaint. 
"That  black  maid  goes  into  the  cabin  with  the 
whites.     The  little  fellow  is  her  Mascot  you  see." 

"And  you  say  this  is  an  old  institution?"  asked 
Merna. 

"Yes,"  replied  Toussaint,  "it  is  thirty  odd  years 
since  slavery,  but  time  has  worked  no  change  for  the 
better  in  this  particular." 

"Certainly  not,  for  slavery  still  goes  on,"  said 
Ethel 


90  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

"True  enough,  we  are  neither  bond  nor  free,"  an- 
swered Toussaint. 

"Do  you  not  think  that  we  are  growing  altogether 
too  serious  over  a  trifle.  There  is  only  time  enough 
in  this  life  to  contemplate  our  real  needs.  We  can 
get  along  very  well  without  soda  water;  and,  after 
all,  it  matters  little  whether  we  sit  in  this  or  that 
cabin  of  the  ferry  boat,  provided  the  comforts  com- 
port with  our  necessities.  What  we  really  want  is 
happiness.  The  formula  is  simply  faith — and  faith 
alone.  Let  us  not  waste  our  time  and  substance  in 
vain  clamorings  for  airy  nothings.  This  prejudice 
is  founded  upon  a  mere  pretense  of  superiority.  All 
men  imbibe  it  to  a  greater  or  less  extent.  We,  our- 
selves, have  it,  whether  conscious  or  unconscious  of 
its  workings.  There  must  be  for  us  all  a  higher 
plane  of  living.  We  must  keep  in  the  company  of 
the  Christ,  and  thus  we  can  let  fall  the  benedictions 
of  holy  Hves  on  weary  and  troubled  souls.  Looking 
up  and  lifting  up  is  my  motto.  For,  if  there  are 
no  heights  to  attain,  and  no  depths  to  fathom,  no 
God  to  reverence  and  no  humanity  to  love,  this  life 
were  indeed  but  dross." 

There  was  thrilling  earnestness  depicted  on  the 
countenance  of  Merna  Attaway  as  she  delivered 
herself  of  these  burning  words.  She  scarcely  seemed 
herself,  so  intense  and  sincere  was  her  speech. 

As  for  Toussaint,  he  seemed  to  be  under  some 
trying  ordeal.     He  had  ardently  hoped  that  some- 


-NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  91 

where,  somehow,  this  day  would  find  him  advanced 
in  love's  pathway,  but  the  path  was  beset  with  too 
many  roses  of  Sharon  and  lilies  of  the  valley  for 
a  heavy-shod  pilgrim  to  tread.  In  truth,  he  thought 
that  Merna  was  getting  away  from  him.  She  was 
on  the  earth,  but  not  of  it.  She  was  constantly  en- 
grossed with  the  spiritual,  and  holding  communion 
with  invisible  forms.  He  was  eager  just  then  to  be 
a  better  man  and  thus  soar  with  her. 


92  HEITEER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 


CHAPTER  XIL 

THE  SOUTHERN  INDUSTRIAL  INSTITUTE VACATION. 

A  veritable  Arcadia!  Here  peace  and  plenty 
seem  to  abide  on  every  hand.  Rich  foliage  from 
rare  trees  spread  their  generous  branches  in  every 
direction;  quaint  cottages  in  profusion  vie  ^^1ith 
sombre  buildings,  whose  walls  are  almost  concealed 
from  view  by  the  ivy  and  Virginia  creeper;  a  de- 
licious sky  wooing  the  glistening  river,  whose  broad 
terrace  is  fringed  with  bush  and  tree,  and  above 
and  around  this  sheen  of  water,  birds — true  har- 
bingers of  peace — flit  hither  and  thither,  warbling 
their  sweetest  lays. 

This  perfect  summer  day  finds  Merna  and  Tous- 
saint,  Ethel  and  Strother,  Mr.  Burleigh  and  Cla- 
rissa, on  the  spacious  grounds  of  the  Southern 
Collegiate  and  Industrial  Institute.  These  are  here 
on  invitation  of  some  of  the  vacation  students,  to 
engage  in  out  of  door  sport. 

"What  game  shall  we  play?"  queried  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh, as  the  party  loitered  under  the  big  oak  tree. 


'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  93 

"What  game  do  you  prefer?"  asked  Ethel. 

"I  confess  that  I  can  only  play  one  lawn  game 
and  that  is  crouqet." 

"Oh,  pshaw!  Croquet!"  laughed  Ethel, "that  is 
old  timey — out  of  date,  you  see.  Let  us  play  ten- 
nis— any  old  thing  but  croquet." 

"I  think  tennis  is  quite  violent  exercise,  especial- 
ly at  this  season,"  quietly  observed  Merna. 

"It  is  not  so  warm  this  afternoon.  It  is  decid- 
edly pleasant  here  near  the  water,  so  I  repeat  let  us 
try  anything  but  croquet,"  insisted  Ethel. 

Several  of  the  students  remarked  that  there  were 
no  appliances  for  tennis  on  the  grounds,  but  if  a 
sufficient  number  of  players  could  bp  mustered,  a 
cricket  match  would  be  arranged. 

"I  have  never  heard  of  the  game,"  rejoined 
Rev.  Burleigh. 

Ignoring  the  comment  of  the  preacher,  Ethel  be- 
gan to  canvass  the  party  for  players.  There  were 
enough  to  make  up  the  match,  whereupon,  turning 
to  Merna,  Toussaint  and  Clarissa,  she  inquired  as 
to  whether  they  knew  the  game.  Clarissa,  it  seemed, 
had  a  superficial  knowledge  of  it,  and  Toussaint 
while  doubting  himself  was,  however,  willing  to 
lend  a  hand. 

"I  would  have  preferred  to  play  some  game  in 
which  all  the  members  of  our  party  might  engage," 
said  Merna,  addressing  Rev.  Burleigh. 

"Oh,  that  is  all  right,  I  am  rather  too  corpulent 


94  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE, 

for  any  amusement  requiring  much  physical  exer- 
tion," he  repHed. 

"I  did  not  know  that  one  so  modest  and  so  sweet 
could  play  such  a  game  as  cricket;  in  fact,  I  did 
not  know  until  recently  that  ladies  knew  or  could 
play  the  game,"  said  Toussaint,  addressing  Merna., 

"It  has  long  been  familiar  to  both  sexes  in  Bos- 
ton. I  understand  that  the  game  is  not  generally 
indulged  by  females  in  the  South.  I  am  not  a  hot- 
house plant,  Mr.  Ripley.  My  taste  for  athletics  Is 
quite  pronounced.  I  play  tennis,  croquet,  badmin- 
ton and  golf,"  replied  Merna. 

"I  am  a  mere  novice  in  the  game  of  cricket.  I 
learned  what  I  know  of  it  in  Philadelphia,  two  sea- 
sons ago.  I  have  almost  forgotten  the  names  of 
some  of  the  technical  terms,"  said  Toussaint. 

"Well,  there  are  'popping  crease'  and  'byes'  and 
'maiden  overs'  and  'long  field  on'  and  'long  field  off.' 
I  will  go  over  them  with  you.  The  popping  crease, 
where  the  batter  stands,  is  four  feet  in  front  of  the 
wicket.     Byes " 

"Come,  IMerna,  Ethel  is  calling  for  you,"  said 
Toussaint. 

While  dilating  on  the  novel  terms  significant  of 
the  varied  movements  of  the  game,  these  two  had 
strolled  quite  a  distance  from  the  gay  group. 

Ethel  had  suggested  that  Merna  be  chosen  cap- 
tain and  that  the  men  play  on  one  side,  the  girls 
on  the  other. 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  96 

Strother  remarked  that  this  would  prove  an  un- 
equal contest  from  the  start  as  the  men  were  supe- 
rior players,  taken  as  a  whole.  Some  one  said  that 
it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  let  the  gentlemen  play 
left  handed.  This  was  agreed  upon  and  the  game 
was  started.  The  men  went  to  the  wicket  first. 
Ethel  and  Miss  Atkins  of  the  students  opened  the 
attack.  The  fielding  was  quick  and  the  bowling 
good  on  the  part  of  the  girls  and  all  the  men  were 
out  for  seventy  runs.  The  ladies  then  went  to  the 
wickets  with  every  chance  of  victory.  The  men 
ranged  themselves  in  the  field  and  Ethel  and  Mern.i 
faced  the  bowling.  In  perfect  style  they  played  tha 
left  hand  attempts  of  the  men  bowlers  and  presently 
that  fair  side  was  out  for  ninety-three. 

Toussaint  and  Strother  formed  a  partnership 
which  w^as  the  only  stand  of  the  afternoon,  Ethel 
being  especially  successful  with  the  ball. 

When  the  game  was  in  full  swing,  it  was  highly 
interesting.  If  some  of  the  throw-ins  of  the  ball 
by  a  fair  fielder  were  not  as  accurate  as  desired  the 
error  was  condoned  by  the  white  shirt  waists,  short 
duck  skirts  and  sailor  hats  of  white  straw. 

The  sport  was  spirited  and  thoroughly  enjoyed. 
And  while  the  game  was  in  progres  the  large  gong 
sounded  as  a  hint  to  prepare  for  tea. 

The  visitors  were  urged  to  remain  to  the  meal  and 
all  decided  to  do  so.  During  the  interval  of  thirty 
minutes,  Merna,  Ethel  and  Clarissa  remained  with 


96  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FRE^. 

Miss  Atkins  and  the  men  strolled  over  to  Douglass 
Hall  where  the  males  had  their  apartments. 

To  the  men's  quarters,  arm  in  arm,  walked  Tous- 
saint  and  Strother.  The  latter,  a  genial,  even  tem- 
pered and  an  earnest  young  man,  was  highly  ex- 
uberant after  his  frolic.  Toussaint,  on  the  contrary, 
was  silent. 

"Brace  up,  old  man,"  jocosely  remarked  Strother 
to  his  companion. 

"Don't  you  know  I  feel  all  undone,"  said  Tous- 
saint in  a  meditative  way. 

"Yes,  you  are  evidently  in  love,  and  it  affects  yo\ir 
health." 

''What  do  you  mean  by  that,  anyway,  Ed.  Stro- 
ther?" 

"Well,  love  is  a  singular  comp(;und.  Some  it 
lifts  up — others  it  casts  down.  It  is  h'fe  to  one— it 
is  death  to  another,"  he  went  on  in  a  humorous 
vein. 

Toussaint  stared  at  the  speaker  in  a  vacant  man- 
ner, and  then  broke  in  abruptly:  "Ed.,  I  must  out 
with  a  secret.  I  know  you'll  bear  me  confidence. 
I  am  madly  in  love  with  Merna  Attaway.  I  have 
little  mind  for  anything  else  besides  that  girl.  I 
have  tried  a  dozen  times  to  speak  my  love  to  her, 
but  she  has  always  played  the  skillful  swordsman 
and  parried  it  off.  Now,  come  what  may,  I 
am  resolved  to  tell  her  before  we  part  this  day,  that 
I  expect  some  encouragement  from  her." 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  97 

"Now,  good  fellow,  don't  get  rash.  There,  you've 
lots  of  time  left  for  love-making.  You  don't  know 
the  girl  as  yet,  and  she  certainly  has  no  knowledge 
of  what  manner  of  man  you  are,"  sententiously 
remarked  Strother. 

They  had  reached  the  dormitory  and  nothing  fur- 
ther was  said  by  either  of  them  concerning  Merna. 

After  tea  had  been  dispensed  the  girls  and  the 
young  men  assembled  themselves  in  the  upper  par- 
lors, where  mellifluous  voices  were  heard — voices 
attuned  to  sweet  music — music  with  pathos  rare — 
rendering  plaintive  songs  of  mingled  joy  and  sor- 
row— for  Merna  and  Ethel.  Merna  in  exchange 
presided  at  the  piano  and  thrilled  her  hearers  by  a 
brilliant  rehearsal  of  selections  of  classical  music 
and  familiar  ballads.  As  she  arose  from  the  stool 
and  withdrew  to  the  open  window,  the  students 
went  wild  with  delight.  They  had  never  witnessed 
such  a  performance  by  one  of  their  own  race. 

Toussaint  advanced  to  Ethel  and  in  an  under- 
tone, inquired  as  to  where  she  had  studied  music. 

''Merna,"  she  replied,  "will  not  talk  about  her- 
self, but  her  aunt  Margaret  said  that  she  had  been 
trained  in  the  'Preservatory'  of  Music  at  Boston." 
Ethel  laughed  heartily. 

"Be  careful  of  your  speech,"  whispered  Toussaint, 
"remember  you  are  talking  of  Merna's  aunt." 

"And  you  are  mad,  Mr.  Sauer  Kraut,  because  I 


98  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

said  Treservatory  ?'  Merna  isn't  the  only  preserve 
in  the  jar;  there  are  others." 

Toussaint  frowned  sullenly  and  went  off  to  join 
Merna,  where  Strother  seemed  to  be  engaging  her 
in  an  earnest  conversation,  and  very  earnest,  indeed, 
it  appeared  to  Toussaint. 

The  sun  coming  down  the  heavens  was  scatter- 
ing its  beams  full  and  fair  against  the  vine  clad 
eaves  and  windows  where  at  least  a  dozen  souls 
were  grouped.  Here  was  indeed  an  interesting  study 
in  colors  brought  about  by  the  economy  of  nature. 
A  bouquet  of  human  flowers;  some  exquisitely 
formed  and  delightful  to  the  eye,  others  appealing 
in  the  main  to  the  nobler  sentiments  in  our  nature. 
There  was  the  manly  form  of  Edward  Strother,  a 
man  with  earnest  thoughts  and  high  resolves.  If 
one  was  seeking  real  worth,  it  was  in  that  dark 
brown,  but  comely  skin.  A  high  forehead,  broad 
chest — a  strong  and  steady  eye  and  an  open  counte- 
nance was  his.  And  there  was  Ethel,  an  attractive 
girl,  though  somewhat  short  of  stature,  with  a  lus- 
trous, beaming  face  and  Indian  complexion.  She 
was  much  fairer  than  Toussaint  and  yet  not  so  fair 
as  Merna.  There  stood  Rev.  Burleigh,  holding  by 
the  hand  Ethel,  who  gazed  up  intently  on  his  shin- 
ing ebon  face  and  the  white  expanse  of  bosom,  as 
if  there  were  somewhere  a  fresh  discovery  for  her. 

In  this  galaxy  of  faces  there  wxre  scarcely  any 


'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  c^g 

two  shades  of  color  not  readily  distinguishable  from 
one  another. 

"The  Young  Men's  Christian  Association  of 
H ,  has  secured  the  services  of  Joshua  A.  Rid- 
ley of  Boston,  to  lecture  in  the  town  hall  to-night. 
I  ask  the  pleasure  of  your  company  there,"  said 
Toussaint,  addressing  Merna. 

"1  am  obliged  to  you,  but  I  have  just  accepted 
an  invitation  from  Mr.  Strother  for  that  occasion. 
Your  Association  is  quite  fortunate  in  having  se- 
cured such  a  talented  and  distinguished  lecturer.  I 
enjoy  the  personal  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Ridley;  he 
is  a  good  man.  I  shall  be  delighted  to  see  and  hear 
him  on  Virginia  soil." 

''You  mistake  the  Association.  It  is  for  the  white 
and  not  the  colored  Y.  M.  C.  A.  that  Mr.  Ridley 
comes,"  observed  Toussaint. 

"Well,  it  is  a  treat  all  the  same.  But  what  is  the 
subject  of  the  lecture?  I  did  not  think  to  ask  Mr. 
Strother,"  said  Merna. 

"The  Brotherhood  of  Man,"  replied  Toussaint. 
"An  excellent  subject  and  especially  for  this  sec- 
tion, I  should  say,"  remarked  Merna. 

"Now,  Merna,  we  are  once  more  alone.  I  want 
to  speak  quite  plainly  to  you.  I  have  decided  in 
justice  to  us  both,  to  declare  my  feelings  for  you. 
I  have  been  deeply  interested  in  you  since  the  time 
of  our  first  meeting.  That  interest  must  be  manifest 
to  you.   It  has  gone  on  and  on  until  it  has  ripened 


100  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

into  perfect  love  for  you.  Don't  turn  off  from  me 
— you  do  not  realize  how  necessary  you  are  to  my 
happiness  and  peace  of  mind.  I  have  intended  to 
tell  you  this  truth  for  days  and  days,  but  I  have 
lacked  the  courage  to  speak  out.  Now,  do  tell  me, 
my  dear  one,  that  you  will  accept  my  avowal  in  good 
faith." 

"Indeed,  Mr,  Ripley,  I  hardly  know  how  to  begin. 
I  have  felt  very  grateful  to  you  for  your  many  kind- 
nesses to  me  during  my  sojourn  in  your  midst.  I 
have  admired  your  straightforward  conduct,  and, 
most  of  all,  your  ambition  to  do  some  good  for 
others.     I  really  like  you." 

"I  really  love  you,"  repeated  Toussaint,  as  he 
pressed  her  hand  in  his  own. 

Toussaint  felt  a  slight  effort  to  withdraw  her 
hand,  and  in  obedience  to  it  promptly  relaxed  his 
hold,  and  looking  imploringly  in  her  drooping  eyes, 
he  asked,  as  their  gaze  met,  what  she  really  thought 
of  him. 

"I  have  already  told  you,  Mr.  Ripley." 

"Don't  call  me  Mr.  Ripley;  please,  say  Toussaint 
— say  Ripley,  anything  but  the  formal  mister." 

"I  shall  then  address  you  hereafter  as  Toussaint, 
if  you  really  wish  me." 

"And  you  will  also  love  me?" 

"I  will  try." 

"Will  it  prove  a  hard  task?" 

"This  I  cannot  say.     I  hope  not.     Oh,  there  is 


NEITHER  B02iD  NOR  FREE.  101 

Seba  running  across  the  campus.  I  left  him  on 
the  portico.  And  here  is  Httle  Bernice,  I  guess  he 
wants  me,"  said  Merna. 

"Let  me  go  down  and  meet  him/'  said  Toussaint, 
as  he  hastened  away. 

As  Bernice  was  about  to  enter  the  room,  Merna 
met  him  at  the  door,  kissed  him  and  asked  him  if  he 
wanted  to  see  his  papa  or  sister. 

"No,  I  have  a  letter  for  you.  Miss  Merna,"  he 
said,  as  he  handed  her  the  telegram.  It  ran  as  fol- 
lows : 

"Come  home.     Your  mother  is  not  wxll  " 

"Ralph  Attaway." 

Merna  quietly  folded  the  note  and  then  confused- 
ly opened  the  same  and  extended  it  to  Toussaint 
to  read.  A  pallor  settled  over  her  features,  as  she 
tremulously  said  to  him :  "I  must  leave  this  place 
at  once;  mother  is  ill." 

The  entire  company  sympathetically  pressed 
around  Merna  to  hear  the  news.  Toussaint  told 
them  all  and  then  he  and  Rev.  Burleigh  accompa- 
nied her  to  the  home  of  her  aunt  Margaret. 

Merna  that  night  sailed  for  Boston,  while  Tous- 
saint and  Strother  wended  their  way  to  the  town 
hall. 

A  semi-religious  lecture  could  not  be  heard  by 
these  shady  sons  of  Ham,  although  they  stood  at  the 


102  'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

box  window  eager  to  purchase  tickets  at  fifty 
cents  apiece.  A  gentleman  of  pleasant  address  and 
most  engaging  manners,  told  Toussaint  and  Stro- 
ther  that  they  were  not  authorized  to  sell  tickets 
to  any  persons  other  than  whites. 

"What  mockery — what  duplicity — what  double 
dealing  in  the  name  of  Christianity.  God  help 
these  mortals,"  said  Toussaint,  in  mock  solemnity. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  to  do.  There  is  the  open  stage 
door;  ^ve  will  go  in  there  behind  the  speaker  and 
hear  the  speech  from  the  rear,"  suggested  Strother. 


'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  103 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

SOWING  THE  WIND. 

It  was  ten  by  the  clock,  when  a  gang  of  ''hood- 
kims,"  fresh  from  the  slums  of  Washington, 
strolled  leisurely  across  Pennsylvania  Avenue  at  the 
point  where  that    thoroughfare    is    intersected    by 

•  street.     They  kept  on   until   presently  

street  was  reached,  where  shortly  afterwards  they 
halted  in  front  of  a  plain  brick  structure  known  to 
the  gang  as  ''Bachelor's  Rest." 

There  were  in  that  little  band  some  miserable 
wretches,  and  yet  these  would  have  brooked  no  in- 
sinuation that  they  were  not  quite  as  good  as  many 
who  moved  in  the  "cream"  of  Washington  society, 
for  they  had  with  them  what  was  regarded  as  fair 
specimens  of  that  set.  It  must,  however,  be  set 
down  to  the  credit  of  the  wretches  that  they  had  no 
concern  about  the  doings  of  society.  These  were 
sports  of  the  whole  cloth,  who,  owl-like,  slept  by 
day  and  kept  an  open  eye  at  night.  They  proclaimed 
themselves  "dead  sport."     True  it  was,  that  their 


104  "NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

earnings  were  neither  large  nor  certain,  but  they 
stuck  to  their  games  through  thick  and  thin. 

In  that  band  of  midnight  marauders  there  is  one 
character  with  whom  we  have  to  deal.  It  is 
Charles  Van  Courtney.  It  was  a  mystery  to  more 
than  one  person  how  this  man,  who  was  employed 
as  a  messenger  in  the  Treasury  Department  at 
$60.00  per  month,  could  do  constant  business  with 
the  swell  tailors  and  haberdashers  of  F  Street. 

Few  Congressmen  and  men  of  leisure  appeared  on 
the  public  thoroughfares  more  fashionably  attired 
than  Van  Courtney.  He  was  accustomed  to  say 
to  his  associates,  ''Fellows,  you  can't  guess  me." 
But  the  secret  of  his  strange  success  leaked  out, 
as  secrets  sooner  or  later  will.  It  came  about  in  this 
way.  Van  Courtney,  anxious  to  exploit  himself 
as  an  accomplished  man,  hit  upon  the  idea  of  en- 
tering his  name  at  one  of  the  leading  professional 
schools  of  the  city.  Columbian  University  was  se- 
lected as  the  school  and  law  as  the  course  he  would 
pursue.  This  occurred  some  years  ago.  He  read- 
ily gained  admission,  notwithstanding  persons  of 
color  were  not  permitted  to  matriculate  there,  for 
his  features  and  complexion  were  fairly  Caucasian. 
Van  Courtney  grew  tired  of  this  school  experience 
after  remaining  about  three  weeks.  While  attend- 
ing the  school,  his  mother,  several  shades  darker 
in  color  than  her  son,  called  at  the  law  building 
one  evening  as  the  students  were  hastening  away 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  105 

from  their  studies.  She  inquired  of  a  student  as 
to  whether  her  son  had  already  left  the  hall.  He 
went  in  quest  of  Van  Courtney  and  was  chagrined 
to  discover  that  a  colored  man  was  a  law  student 
at  that  celebrated  institution.  It  was  then  recalled 
that  Charles  Van  Courtney  was  the  same  individual 
who  had  been  in  the  habit  of  frequenting  some  ex- 
clusive cafes  and  "private  snaps"  of  the  city.  And 
this  was  not  all.  The  furore  that  was  raised  by 
the  law  students  on  account  of  the  ''nigger"  who 
was  attending  Columbian  Law  School  spread  until 
it  reached  the  white  "guys"  and  "plungers"  who 
had  sat  at  the  card  table  with  Van  Courtney.  This 
man,  you  must  know,  was  regarded  as  a  "dead 
square  sport,"  among  the  colored  gamblers,  and  a 
confidence  man  among  the  white  sports. 

Van  Courtney  played  many  games  of  chance,  but 
faro  and  poker  were  his  favorite  business  calls.  His 
"pals"  could  give  him  no  better  testimonial  than 
this — he  won  on  the  "square"  when  he  could,  and 
when  this  was  difficult  of  accomplishment,  or  impos- 
sible, he  had  recourse  to  various  tricks  and  devices  in 
order  to  fleece  his  victims.  He  was  as  frequently 
addressed  by  the  sobriquet  "Lucky  Charley,"  as  his 
true  name.  His  "ways  that  were  dark  and  tricks 
that  were  vain,"  easily  won  him  this  distinction; 
and  few  men  were  more  successful  in  avoiding  de- 
tection than  Charles  Van  Courtney. 

"Bachelor's  Rest"  was  a  misnomer,  for  the  bache- 


106  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

lor  had  no  cinch  on  this  retreat.  The  truth  of  the 
matter  is,  that  quite  as  many  Benedicts  frequented 
the  place  as  the  former.  Of  the  ten  rooms  in  this 
house,  seven  were  set  apart  for  the  use  of  the  so- 
called  club,  the  remaining  three  were  occupied  for 
the  separate  use  of  the  President  de  jura,  if  not  de 
facto,  of  the  elastic  organization.  Some  of  the 
club's  rooms,  namely,  the  reception  room,  ''smoker/' 
where  liquors  were  freely  dispensed,  and  the  dining 
room,  had  varying  attractions  in  their  tawdry  deco- 
rations of  well  worn  tapestry  and  trappings.  The 
furniture  vied  with  the  decorations.  On  the  sec- 
ond floor  were  three  rooms,  two  small,  the  other 
very  large.  These  were  all  scant  of  furniture  and 
with  bare  floors. 

The  night  in  question  was  a  cold,  crisp  one 
towards  the  latter  part  of  December.  Between 
the  hours  of  one  and  two  o'clock,  a  solitary 
policeman,  impatiently  pacing  his  beat  in  the 
neighborhood  of  ''Bachelor's  Rest,"  stopped  sud- 
denly as  he  heard  a  muffled  cry  of  "Help!  Help!" 
He  sounded  a  call  for  aid,  and  at  the  same  time  hast- 
ened his  steps  in  the  direction  whence  the  sound  pro- 
ceeded. As  he  drew  near  the  club  there  was  heard 
a  din  of  voices,  with  mingled  sounds  of  execrations 
and  dire  threats.  Two  other  policemen  had  come 
up,  and  the  three  in  chorus  demanded  admission. 
No  response  being  given  to  the  request  to  "open  up," 
the  lock  was  forced,  the  door  opened  and  two  stal- 


"NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  107 

wart  conservators  of  the  peace  entered,  while  a 
third  stood  guard  at  the  window.  "Ah,  my  gay 
bird,  you  catch  no  weasel  asleep,"  said  the  stern 
bluecoat,  as  he  violently  seized  Van  Courtney  by 
the  collar,  as  that  spry  young  man  came  near  him 
in  his  unceremonious  exit  by  means  of  the  window. 

"Come  with  me,  let  us  survey  the  field,"  spoke 
the  captor  to  his  captive,  as  "Lucky  Charley"  was 
rudely  jostled  in  the  house. 

What  a  sight  met  the  gaze  of  the  law's  defenders ! 
Callous  hearted  and  accustomed  as  they  were  to 
scenes  of  brutality  and  shame,  nevertheless,  they  in- 
stinctively drew^  back,  stupefied  and  amazed. 

By  the  general  and  inquiring  public,  those  not  in- 
itiated in  the  mysteries  of  "Bachelor's  Rest,"  this 
place  was  looked  upon  as  swelldom  for  the  leaders 
of  colored  society.  An  imitation,  feeble,  of  course, 
of  the  swell  white  clubs  of  the  city. 

But  here  was  a  strange  picture  which  struck  a  dis- 
cordant note  on  the  pleasant  sentiment  which  a 
Washington  constabulary  had  nursed  for  colored 
aristocracy.  They  were  appalled.  Their  sensibili- 
ties had  received  a  severe  shock.  Their  idol  was 
shattered. 

In  one  room  were  a  number  of  men  huddled  about 
a  faro  game;  apart  from  these  was  a  poor  fellow 
crouched  in  a  corner  of  the  room  with  an  ugly  gash 
just  over  his  right  eye.  It  was  bleeding  profusely. 
The  man  was  frenzied,  and  too  weak  to  stand.     It 


108  'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

was  not  easy  to  determine  whether  his  weakness  was 
caused  by  the  loss  of  blood  or  from  excessive  use  of 
intoxicants,  for  he  had  evidently  been  drinking  very 
freely. 

Many  conflicting  explanations  were  given  as  to 
the  origin  of  the  trouble,  statements  heightened  and 
colored  to  suit  the  whims  or  prejudices  of  the  narra- 
tor. The  best  and  indisputable  evidence  was  a 
wounded  man,  a  tall,  cadaverous  individual,  having 
in  his  sleeve  a  razor  distended  wide,  and  a  gaming 
device. 

''You  were  all  gambling,  then?"  inquired  an 
officer,  of  the  party. 

The  proprietor.  President  of  the  club,  or  what 
shall  we  call  him,  spoke  up:  ''No,  sir;  I  allow  no 
gambling  in  this  house.  These  men  were  playing 
for  fun." 

"A  faro  game  for  fun,"  chuckled  the  policeman. 
"I  declare  you  all  under  arrest." 

Another  officer  peered  in  the  other  two  rooms. 
There  was  a  little,  old  sideboard  in  one,  with  two 
empty  whiskey  decanters  exposed  to  view,  and  a 
table  containing  a  pack  of  playing  cards.  The  other 
room  had  only  its  table  and  four  chairs. 

While  the  inspection  was  in  progress,  the  "Black 
Maria"  had  been  driven  to  the  door,  and  a  squad  of 
police  alighted  and  took  charge  of  twenty  young 
men.  The  wounded  man  was  carried  below  to  the 
street  and  placed  in  the  vehicle,  where  the  others,  in 


i^ETTHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  109 

single  file,  awaited  their  turn.  They  all  protested 
their  innocence,  and  all  looked  meek  except  Van 
Courtney. 

''Why  do  you  arrest  me?  I  was  not  in  the  row, 
neither  in  the  room  where  the  game  was  running," 
with  vehemence  uttered  Van  Courtney. 

"When  we  go  for  game,  we  bag  all  we  find," 
tauntingly  the  officer  replied. 

"It's  a  d d  outrage  to  treat  me  like  a  dog. 

I'm  innocent." 

"Tell  that  to  the  judge  later  this  morning,"  said 
the  officer. 

One  policeman  whispered  to  another  as  he  as- 
sisted Van  Courtney  in  the  patrol.  Then,  turning 
to  him,  said :  "We  will  let  you  go,  as  it  does  not 
appear  that  you  intended  to  violate  the  law." 

At  this  the  President  of  the  club  said,  ''Lucky 
Charley  is  not  more  guilty  nor  less  guilty  than  I 
am.  I  have  violated  no  law.  I  have  done  every- 
thing I  could  to  keep  a  respectable  club.  Lucky 
Charley  was  actually  playing  poker.  I  have  just 
been  told  that  he  was  playing  for  money,  and  this 
is  positively  opposed  to  our  rules.  He  won  the 
stakes  by  cheating.  A  fellow  drew  his  gun  on  Lucky 
Charley  and  he  squealed.  But  you  can't  let  him  out. 
He  was  in  the  house  when  you  pulled  it;  that's 
enough,"  said  the  President. 

"But  I  was  not  in  the  game — neither  game,"  de- 
clared Van  Courtney. 


110  'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

''Well,  we'd  better  take  you,  too;  get  in,"  spoke 
the  policeman. 

The  patrol  was  driven  to  the Street  station, 

and  the  whole  party  were  carefully  searched  and 
locked  up,  to  be  called  into  court  later. 

On  Van  Courtney's  person  was  found  what  is 
known  as  a  sleeve  hold  out^  an  expensive  gambling 
contrivance  for  securing  cards  to  the  cuff  in  order 
to  cheat  at  the  game  of  poker.  To  an  officer  he 
stated  that  the  device  originally  cost  $300. 

The  newspapers  that  morning  descanted  on  the 
raid  in  a  racy  manner,  under  a  bold  caption  which 
read: 

IN  THE  TOILS. 

A  Raid  on  the  Swell  Colored  Club. 

Most  of  the  prisoners,  including  Van  Courtney, 
were  discharged  from  custody  on  the  payment  of  a 
fine  and  cost  of  court ;  a  few,  in  default  of  this,  were 
sent  to  jail  for  periods  ranging  from  sixty  to  ninety 
days. 


'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  Hi 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    WAGES    OF    SIN. 

When  Van  Courtney  reached  his  boarding  house 
about  mid-day,  following  his  carousal,  he  found  a 
letter  awaiting  him.  It  was  from  Clarissa  Bur- 
leigh, the  girl  whom  he  had  so  shamefully  betrayed 
the  summer  before.  He  was  already  greatly  de- 
pressed in  spirits,  and  the  recognition  of  the  familiar 
scrawl  on  the  envelope  was  by  no  means  calculated 
to  assuage  his  wounded  pride. 

*'Curse  it  all,"  he  muttered,  as  he  nervously  broke 
the  seal,  and  read  as  follows :  "My  darling  Charley ! 
You  won't  come  to  me,  I  am  so  unhappy.  I  feel 
miserable.  I  have  been  here  for  nearly  a  month,  and 
you  have  not  been  near  me.  Oh,  Charley,  why  did 
you  fool  me  away  from  home,  promising  to  marry 
me,  and  then  set  me  adrift  in  this  strange  city?  I 
have  neither  friends  nor  money.  Well,  if  I  do  not 
see  you  this  night,  then  you'll  not  see  me  again. 
Meet  me  to-night  at  eight  at  the  Rock  Creek  Bridge. 
If  you  are  not  there  by  nine  o'clock,  you'll  never  see 
me  again.     You  won't  come  to  the  house  because 


112  "NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE, 

you  are  ashamed  to ".       Here  Van  Courtney 

ceased  reading  the  letter,  crumpled  it  in  his  hand 
and  tossed  it  into  the  open  grate,  where  the  flames 
soon  devoured  it. 

Presently  the  bell  sounded  for  lunch,  but  Van 
Courtney  had  no  appetite  for  the  meal.  He  re- 
mained in  his  room  for  a  half  hour  or  more,  sitting 
with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  his  body  swaying 
to  and  fro  over  the  embers.  He  arose  hurriedly, 
lighted  a  cigar,  mounted  his  wheel  and  rode  off  to 
the  Treasury  Department,  there  to  resume  his  work. 
When  near  the  department  he  narrowly  averted  a 
collision  with  a  coupe  driven  by  a  young  colored 
man.  Van  Courtney  thoughtlessly  attempted  to 
cross  the  street  at  the  instant  the  carriage  from  the 
opposite  way  was  approaching  the  curbing. 

*Turn  out,"  shouted  Van  Courtney. 

"Turn  in,"  said  the  driver.  Van  Courtney  looked 
up  at  the  speaker  and  exclaimed :  "Hallo,  is  it  you, 
Ed.  Strother?" 

"Well,  yes,  it's  Strother." 

*'What  are  you  doing  in  this  place,  and  what  does 
this  horsey  business  mean?" 

"It  means  that  I  am  a  coachman." 

"Coachman,  eh  ?  Well,  I  am  on  my  way  to  work, 
but  the  sight  of  you  unfits  me  for  anything.  How 
long  have  you  been  here  ?" 

"Since  October." 

"Have  you  been  in  this  city  for  months  and  not 


tJ EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  113 

looked  me  up?  You  know  that  I  would  have  been 
only  too  glad  to  see  and  introduce  you  around  as 
soon  as  you  struck  town." 

"I  am  busy  both  day  and  night,  and,  besides,  have 
no  wish  to  burden  you  with  my  company." 

*That  is  strange  talk.    I  don't  understand  you." 

"Would  you  not  lose  caste  by  taking  me  around  ? 
I  understand  that  you  move  in  the  best  society.  I 
understand  further,  that  your  color  and  position 
have  much  to  do  with  your  social  station.  I  have 
neither  a  clear  skin  nor  position  to  recommend  me." 

"That's  nonsense — mere  stuff.  I'll  take  you 
safely  through  the  lines.  I  will  lead — you  follow. 
See!  my  boy." 

"Guess  I  will  move  on,"  said  Strother. 

^Inahurry?" 

"No,  I  have  nothing  to  do  until  four  o'clock,  when 
I  am  to  call  at  my  employer's  office  for  him." 

"Wait.  I  will  leave  my  wheel  just  across  the  way, 
and  we  will  go  to  some  lunch  room.  I'm  as  hungry 
as  a  wolf." 

Van  Courtney  took  a  seat  by  the  side  of  Strother 
and  they  went  to  the  Dairy  Luncfi.  Strother's  pres- 
ence proved  an  insuperable  barrier  to  the  accommo- 
dation of  Van  Courtney.  The  waiter  pointedly  re- 
fused to  serve  them  food  to  be  eaten  at  that  place, 
but  would  wrap  them  up  anything  they  wished  to 
purchase  and  take  away.  At  this  Van  Courtney  in- 
dignantly led  the  way  out  of  the  room.    Then  to  the 


114  NEITHER  BOND  NOR- FREE. 

Women's  Christian  Temperance  Cafe  they  went. 
No  better  luck  was  in  store  for  them  at  that  place. 
The  cashier  met  them  at  the  entrance,  and  with  a 
smile,  said :  *'We  would  like  to  serve  you  both ;  I 
have  no  feeling  in  the  matter ;  but  then  some  of  our 
regular  boarders  would  protest,  and  it  might  seri- 
ously hamper  our  business.  Now  I  do  hope  that 
you  will  see  things  in  their  proper  light." 

Van  Courtney  with  difficulty  suppressed  an  oath. 
When  he  reached  the  street,  he  addressed  Strother : 
"It's  hard  to  win  out  with  your  shade." 

"And  yours  as  well,  if  you  are  honest.  This  prej- 
udice does  not,  in  the  least,  worry  me,  and  yet  it 
seems  strange  to  think  that  at  the  Capital  of  the  na- 
tion, almost  under  the  big  dome  where  Sumner 
spoke  and  the  Supreme  Court  decreed  that  the  Civil 
Rights  law  was  of  full  force  and  effect  on  all  terri- 
tory of  the  Government,  that  this  sort  of  prejudice 
is  permitted  to  manifest  itself." 

"There  is  law  sufficient  to  jack  those  fellows  up ; 
but  what's  the  use;  they  wriggle  out  of  the  net 
every  time.  I'd  give  them  a  turn  but  for  the  fact 
that  I  am  just  out  of  one  law  scrape." 

"Yes,  I  read  of  it.    'Twas  too  bad." 

"Yes,  it  was  terrible  that  I  should  be  made  the 
scapegoat  for  others'  sins." 

Now  they  were  in  front  of  the  Twidell  Dining 
Room- — a  colored  saloon. 

*'We  will  go  in  this  place.     It's  awfully  sloppy 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  115 

and  dirty,  with  its  cheap  food — its  filthy  newsboys 
and  bootblacks  sitting  around." 

"Well,"  said  Strother,  "I'm  not  here  to  eat.  I 
have  come  to  see  you  eat." 

Van  Courtney  fretted  and  fumed  through  the 
meal.  Strother  looked  on  in  silence.  When  the 
meal  was  over  they  left  the  dining  room  and  drove 
leisurely  back  over  the  route  they  had  come.  Vair 
Courtney  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"Old  fellow,  you  haven't  yet  told  me  how  you 
came  here." 

"The  story  is  short  and  simple  enough,"  said 
Strother. 

"Out  with  it,  then.    Let  me  have  it." 

"I  wanted  to  improve  my  mental  condition,  and 
thus  I  am  here." 

"School,  eh?    Where  are  you.'* 

"I  am  at  Howard  Law  School — Howard  Univer- 
sity." 

"Studying  then — law?  Good  enough.  I,  myself 
was  at  Columbian  for  a  while,  but  got  marrying  in 
my  head,  so  had  to  shut  down  there." 

''You  mean  that  you  are  married  ?" 

"Oh,  no.  I  only  thought  of  the  venture  at  the 
time  I  was  in  school.  It  will  be  a  long  day  when 
they  trap  this  bird,"  and  he,  by  way  of  emphasis, 
tapped  his  forehead  with  his  hand. 

"Have  a  care,  have  a  care,"  slowly  remarked 
Strothen 


116  'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

'Tor  you  I  am  caring,  for  you  I  am  caring,"  Van 
Courtney  broke  out  in  coarse  song. 

"You  don't  improve  any,  I  notice,"  said  Strother. 

"No,  my  education  is  done  for.  But  tell  me,  how 
does  it  happen  that  you  have  decided  to  study  law." 

"It  was  my  employer's  advice  that  induced  me  to 
take  up  law.  My  preference  was  some  trade.  I  was 
put  at  the  blacksmith's  trade  by  my  father  when  a 
small  boy,  and  kept  at  it,  working  during  school  va- 
cations and  after  school  hours,  until  I  left  home. 
That  work,  however,  does  not  seem  to  pay  nowa- 
days. I  should  like  to  be  a  machinist.  It's  a  gain- 
ful occupation,  and  besides,  there  are  comparatively 
few  of  them  in  the  South." 

"You  will  never  make  a  lawyer.  It  takes  gab  for 
the  law,"  remarked  Van  Courtney. 

"Yes,  that  may  be  true  in  my  case,  but  th^re  are 
many  exceptions  to  the  rule.  Mr.  Robbins,  for 
whom  I  work,  is  a  lawyer,  who  has  no  gift  of  gab, 
as  you  call  it.  He  has,  however,  a  big  practice,  it 
seems.  Mr.  Robbins  advised  me  to  study  law%  prom- 
ising to  help  me  along  in  my  studies." 

"Then  the  boss  will  put  up  the  stufif  to  get  you 
through  the  school.  I  was  wondering  how  you 
would  manage  to  pull  through  on  a  coachman's 
pay." 

*'No,  you  don't  quite  understand  me.  Mr.  Rob- 
bins will  help  me,  allowing  me  free  access  to  his  fine 
law  library.    The  money  which  I  saved  up  while  at 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  IVt 

home  to  pay  my  way  through  some  trade  school, 
will  now  help  me  through  the  Howard  Law  School." 

"Here's  hoping  you'll  skin  through,"  said  Van 
Courtney,  elevating  his  elbow,  as  if  in  the  act  of 
toasting  him. 

Then  he  was  silent.  A  deep  frown  settled  on  his 
brow.  His  teeth  were  set  over  and  against  his  lower 
lip,  until  it  was  pressed  as  if  in  a  vise.  He  gazed 
around  vacantly.  There  was  a  visible  tremor  in  his 
frame.  .Who  shall  deny  that  at  that  moment  he  did 
not  have  some  mystic  feeling,  some  strange  fore- 
boding— presaging  ill — as  his  frail  bark  was  swept 
irresistible  on  over  the  bitter  waters  of  Marah  to  its 
awful  destiny. 

"Say,  Strother,  she's  in  the  city." 

"Whom  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  Clarissa;  haven't  you  heard  it?" 

"No ;  it  has  been  more  than  a  month  since  I  have 
heard  from  her.  My  friend,  Toussaint,  wTote  me 
last  saying,  among  other  things,  that  Rev.  Burleigh's 
home  had  been  despoiled." 

"Go  on,  what  else  was  said?"  he  eagerly  inquired. 

"That  was  all  on  that  line,"  answered  Strother. 

"I  will  tell  you  the  w^hole  story.  Last  summer 
Clarissa  became  infatuated  with  me,  or,  if  you  please 
it  w^as  a  sort  of  love  at  first  sight,  you  know^  and  to 
keep  the  thing  going,  I  just  deliberately  made  love 
to  her  in  return.    We  got  engaged  to  marry.    I  was, 


118  1^ EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

you  see,  only  in  fun.  Now  the  silly  girl  has  come 
here  to  jack  me  up  to  make  good  my  promise." 

"I  must  be  frank,"  returned  Strother.  ''You  have 
made  a  terrible  blunder.  You  must  marry  that  girl 
now." 

"I'll  de  d-^-d  if  I  do." 

"Have  you  a  sister?" 

"Three  of  them." 

"Single  or  married?" 

"Two  are  married.  At  least  they  are  so  far  as 
I  know." 

"Suppose  some  man  should  trifle  with  their  affec- 
tions.    How  would  you  feel  about  it?" 

"They  are  in  Alabama ;  I'm  here.  They  ought  to 
have  sense  enough — and  I  know  they  have,  to  look 
out  for  themselves." 

"But  what  if  they  did  not?" 

"Why,  you  bet  I'd  protect  them,"  and  his  eyes 
flashed  fire. 

Van  Courtney's  countenance  reflected  the  w^ork- 
ings  of  his  mind  as  it  contemplated  for  an  instant 
the  dire  consequences  of  a  misapplied  love — involv- 
ing heinous  depravity — of  which  Strother  knew 
nothing. 

"You  are  quite  right,  for  these  seeming  trifles 
often  bring  a  train  of  evil." 

"But  hear  me,  I  have  not  told  you  all.  Clarissa 
wants  me  to  meet  her  to-night — this  night,  prepared 
to  marry  her," 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  119 

"Oh,  I  guess  she'll  give  you  a  decent  time  in  which 
to  get  the  license  and  the  minister." 

"The  girl  is  a  fool.  She's  wild  to  get  married. 
Think  of  it.  She  threatens  to  commit  some  rash  act 
if  I  do  not  show  up  before  nine  o'clock  to-night." 

"Is  it  as  bad  as  that?"  innocently  asked  Strother. 

"Just  that  bad/'  was  the  reply. 

"Then,  by  all  means,  marry  her.  She  has  lost 
confidence  in  you — become  desperate." 

"Yes,  she's  mad — perfectly  beside  herself." 

"Do  as  I  advise  you.  Don't  make  a  wreck  of  the 
poor  girl.  Think  of  it.  She  is  alone  in  a  great  city, 
aw^ay  from  father  and  mother,  and  every  kindly  in- 
fluence. You  may  save  her  from  destruction  by 
prompt  action  on  your  part.  She's  a  good  girl.  I 
have  known  her  since  early  childhood.  She  is  but 
a  child  now,  barely  sixteen." 

Van  Courtney  was  agitated  in  mind  over  the 
probability  of  Clarissa's  self-destruction  if  he  did 
not  promptly  meet  her  with  preparedness  to  marry 
!her. 

"Well,"  said  he,  speaking  very  slowly,  "I  will 
marry  her." 

"I  will  then  go  with  you  to  the  Clerk's  Office," 
said  Strother. 

"Retgisters  Office,  you  mean.     It's  agreed." 

"One — two — three — three  o'clock  has  just  struck. 
Can't  go.     I  am  sorry.     Anyway,  promise  me  that 


120  'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

you  will  keep  your  word  and  marry  Clarissa  before 
to-morrow's  dawn." 

"I  promise,  on  the  faith  of  a  gentleman,"  re- 
sponded Van  Courtney. 

"We  will  see  one  another  often,  I  hope,"  said 
Strother,  as  Van  Courtney  alighted  from  the  car- 
riage. 

''Come  to-morrow  and  visit  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles 
Van  Courtney  at — let  me  see.  Never  mind,  I'll  ring 
you  up." 

They  parted  company.  Strother  driving  direct  to 
the  law  office  of  Mr.  Robbins,  and  Van  Courtney, 
soon  astride  his  wheel,  was  gliding  swiftly  and 
noiselessly  over  the  asphalt  streets  to  the  office  of  the 
Register  of  Marriages.  From  the  office  Van  Court- 
ney soon  emerged,  armed  cap-a-pie  for  the  serious 
meeting  of  himself  and  Clarissa. 

At  twenty  minutes  past  eight  Clarissa  was 
standing  near  the  bridge.  Van  Courtney  walked 
up  to  her  and  eagerly  grasping  her  by  the  hands, 
pressed  kiss  after  kiss  on  her  lips. 

"I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  Charley,"  she  said. 

"And  you  are  really  glad  to  see  me,"  he  replied, 
tauntingly. 

"You  know  I  am,"  she  answered  with  yearning 
tenderness. 

''Well,  what  have  you  got  to  say  for  yourself?" 
he  tartly  inquired. 

"Why,  don't  ask  me  that  question,"  she  cried. 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  121 

throwing  herself  on  him,  and  with  despair,  look- 
ing pleadingly  in  his  eyes. 

"I  am  compelled  to  ask  you  the  question  in  order 
to  find  out  why  you  have  summoned  me  here." 

"Summoned  you  here — "  she  drawled  out;  and 
then  sharply  said,  "You  add  insult  to  injury." 

"Don't  get  cross,  little  pet." 

"You  know  that  you  have  treated  me  mean — vile. 
You  had  me  leave  my  home,  now  upwards  of  a 
month  ago,  promising  to  marry  me  as  soon  as  I 
came  here.     You  have  never  been  near  me  since 

last  summer,  at  H .     You  have  ruined  me.     I 

am  now  an  outcast — no  home — no  friends.  My 
mother  is  now  ill  abed  from  the  misery  you  have 
caused  me,  and  my  father  had,  before  I  got  your 
last  letter,  threatened  to  drive  me  from  home,  say- 
ing I  had  disgraced  the  family." 

The  girl  paused,  and  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands,  w^ept  bitter  tears  of  remorse.  Her  sobs  dis- 
turbed Van  Courtney.  He  had  not  intended  to  ex- 
hibit the  license  to  Clarissa,  still  less  to  marry  her. 
This  license  was  only  a  precautionary  measure  to 
prevent  a  silly  girl  from  the  commission  of  a  dread 
deed. 

"Now,  cheer  up,  girl,  you  have  not  yet  heard  my 
explanation.  I  have  the  best  of  reasons  for  not  hav- 
ing seen  you  at  once,  on  your  coming  to  town.  You 
know  that  nothing  but  some  unavoidable  circum- 
stance would  have  prevented  rne  from  meeting  you 


123  1^ EITHER  BOND  NOB  FREE. 

on  your  arrival  in  the  city.  I,  too,  have  had  lots  of 
trouble — people  putting  up  jobs  on  me  through  envy 
and  malice.  I  ought  to  have  told  you  at  first  of  the 
surprise  I  have  for  you.  I  will  not  tease  you  an- 
other minute."  Here  he  drew  from  his  pocket  the 
license  which  had  ben  furnished  him  to  wed  Cla- 
rissa, and  handing  it  to  her,  he  leaned  forward  and 
embraced  her  tenderly. 

In  an  instant  she  had  dried  up  her  tears  to  read 
the  paper. 

"After  all,  you  are  real  good.  I  am  foolish  to 
doubt  you.  I'll  forgive  you  all."  Then  frantically 
seizing  his  hands  and  swinging  them  to  and  fro  in 
ecstacy,  said,  ''Charley,  dear,  when  are  you  going 
to  marry  me?" 

"Any  time;  to-night  if  you  wish." 

"To-night!"  she  exclaimed,  wild  with  delight. 

"Yes,  to-night,  my  bird;  but  then" — assuming  an 
air  of  studious  earnestness,  "Another  evening  will 
do;  it  is  too  late  now." 

Van  Courtney,  leaning  against  the  handrail  of  the 
bridge,  was  looking  on  the  turbid  and  turgid  stream 
below  as  its  waters  flowed  on  over  jagged  rocks. 
Clarissa  was  nestling  close  by  his  side.  Neither  one 
observed  the  approaching  steps  of  the  stranger  until 
he  was  within  a  few  feet  of  Van  Courtney.  He 
made  pretense  of  passing  them,  unaware  of  their 
presence.  Then,  turning  half  around,  he  uttered — 
as   if   addressing   himself,    the   words,    "ikfr.    Van 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  123 

Courtney.'*  The  trick  worked  like  a  charm.  \^an 
Courtney,  with  eagerness,  looked  up  at  the  speaker. 
The  moon,  in  its  descent,  was  shining  fair,  and  it 
revealed  the  agitated  look  of  the  man  as  he  an- 
swered, "Charles  Van  Courtney  is  my  name,  sir." 

"Charles  Van  Courtney,"  repeated  the  stranger, 
"if  your  companion  will  excuse  you,  I  will  confer 
with  you." 

They  went  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  bridge,  and 
the  detective  read  a  warrant  setting  forth  in  many 
vain  repetitions,  the  charge  of  abduction  of  one, 
Clarissa  Burleigh,  by  Charles  Van  Courtney. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  effect  of  the  read- 
ing of  the  warrant  on  the  accused.  His  frame  quiv- 
ered. He  grew  pale.  His  limbs  betrayed  a  sud- 
den weakness,  and  he  was  as  listless  as  if  dumb. 

"Go  to  your  companion  at  once  and  excuse  your- 
self. You  must  go  with  me.  I  do  not  want  to 
humiliate  you.  There  is  no  need  that  she  should 
know  what  we  are  about." 

Mute  and  sullen.  Van  Courtney  went  to  Clarissa, 
who  inquired  with  painful  earnestness  the  "business 
of  that  white  man." 

"He  doesn't  want  me  to  tell  you,  but  I  am  under 
arrest." 

"For  what?"  indignantly  inquired  Clarissa,  as  she 
pulled  him  by  the  arm  over  to  the  detective. 

"What  does  this  mean,  mister?" 


124  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

"I  have  a  little  business  with  Van  Courtney,  which 
requires  prompt  attention." 

"I  know  all,"  said  the  girl,  "and  you  don't  want 
to  arrest  Charley.     He's  done  nothing." 

*'What  is  your  name,  Miss?" 

*'Never  mind  about  that.     He  is  mine." 

"You  are  the  girl — (here  the  detective  extracted 
the  warrant  from  his  pocket  to  refresh  his  memory) 
— Clarissa  Burleigh." 

"That's  my  name.  Read  me  the  paper  if  it's 
about  Charley,  please,"  she  asked  in  a  plaintive 
voice. 

"You  may  read  it  for  yourself,"  he  said,  as  he 
handed  it  to  her. 

After  having  read  it,  she  turned  to  Van  Court- 
ney, saying,  "Charley,  what  did  you  tell  the  gentle- 
man?" 

"I've  told  him  nothing.  But  you  know  that  I  am 
not  guilty,  and  can  prove  it,"  stammered  the  fellow. 

"They  can't  arrest  you,  Charley,  if  you  are  mar- 
ried to  me.  Where's  your  license?  Show  him  that. 
We'll  get  married  to-night." 

The  paper  was  passed  to  the  detective,  who,  after 
perusing  it,  remarked :  "It  is  good  enough  as  far  as 
it  goes,  but  the  trouble  is  it  does  not  go  far  enough. 
You  may  never  marry;  besides  my  duty  is  plain — 
it  has  no  reference  to  the  conjugal  state.  My  war- 
rant is  to  take  the  body  of  the  culprit  before  the 
proper  officer  of  the  law," 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  125 

"But,  Mr.  Officer,  why  should  you  want  to  take 
him  away  to  prison  when  he  will  marry  me  to-night? 
Won't  you  marry  me  now,  Charley,"  she  tearfully 
asked. 

"I  have  told  you  that  already — before  the  officer 
came,"  he  doggedly  replied. 

*'Well,  I  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  You  both  are  evi- 
dently sincere.  The  license  attests  your  honest  in- 
tention," said  the  detective,  looking  directly  at  Van 
Courtney.  "I  do  not  wish  to  embarras  you — either 
of  you.  I  cannot,  however,  relinquish  the  custody 
of  a  prisoner.  Miss,  since  you  are  to  be  married  to- 
night, I  have  no  doubt  that  your  father  will  be  sat- 
isfied, and  the  ends  of  justice  be  fully  met.  You 
two  go  ahead.  I  will  take  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street.  I  must,  however,  be  present  to  witness  the 
ceremony,  and  to  disarm  the  least  suspicion.  I  will 
pose  as  a  friend  of  the  contracting  parties." 

When  the  boarding  house  of  Clarissa  was  reached 
the  girl  conducted  Van  Courtney  to  the  landlady. 
He  explained  the  object  of  his  visit,  inquired  the 
amount  of  Clarissa's  indebtedness  to  her,  settled  the 
same,  and  hurriedly  left  the  house,  ostensibly  in 
search  of  a  minister  who  would  unite  himself  and 
Clarissa  in  the  holy  bond  of  wedlock. 

The  detective,  as  he  boarded  the  street  car  with 
Van  Courtney,  explained  to  him  that  he  would  not 
go  too  near  the  residence  of  the  minister,  but  await 
his  return  on  the  outside. 


126         NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

The  car  was  crowded  with  passengers,  and  there 
were  frequent  stops — discharging  and  receiving. 
Van  Courtney  reckoned  that  this  was  his  opportu- 
nity to  make  good  his  escape.  With  a  rush  he  could 
make  the  depot  in  ample  time  to  catch  the  through 
south  bound  mail  train.  At  all  events,  he  would 
take  the  risk  of  being  overhauled  in  his  flight,  rather 
than  the  constant  annoyance  of  being  pressed  to 
marry  a  girl  not  his  choice.  In  the  course  of  an  ani- 
mated discussion  with  the  detective.  Van  Courtney, 
holding  between  his  fingers  a  cigar,  politely  re- 
quested a  match,  saying  that  he  would  take  a  smoke 
on  the  rear  platform.  When  near  a  certain  circle, 
dense  with  trees  and  shrubbery,  the  car  stopped,  and, 
unobserved  by  the  detective,  he,  alighting  along  with 
the  other  passengers,  sped  like  a  deer  through  the 
circle  and  was  gone. 

At  the  moment  that  Clarissa  was  putting  on  the 
finishing  touches  to  grace  her  person  to  wed  the 
man  of  her  choice,  that  man  was  ensconced  in  a  pas- 
senger coach  of  the  fast  mail  bound  for  Alabama. 


NEITHER  BOVD  NOR  FREE.  1^7 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  QUEEN  OF  SOCIETY. 

The  Gay  family  was  a  numerous  one,  and  at  its 
head  was  John  Gay,  father  of  Ethel  Gay.  Mr.  Gay 
was  a  prominent  citizen  of  the  Capital  City — I 
should  say  resident,  for  with  the  exit  of  the  "feather 
duster"  legislature  from  the  District  of  Columbia,  of 
which  he  had  been  a  conspicuous  member,  citizen- 
ship here  took  to  itself  wings  and  thenceforth 
claimed  its  habitat  in  the  states.  The  Rev.  Hezekiah 
Gay  flourished  when  Washington  was  in  the  throes 
of  its  physical  evolution.  This  devout  man  served 
well  his  day  and  generation,  as  a  licentiate  minister 
in  a  Protestant  Church  Mission.  He  was  anxious  to 
better  his  condition  in  this,  as  well  as  in  the  world  to 
come,  and  thus,  while  ministering  to  his  flock,  he, 
betw^een  times,  labored  for  himself.  He  was  an  en- 
thusiastic dissenter  from  the  doctrine  of  his  church 
attendants — those  who  prated  to  the  white  folks, 
"You  may  have  all  this  world,  just  give  me  Jesus.'' 

Little,  if  anything,  was  known  of  the  early  life 
and  struggles  of  "Father"  Gay,  as  he  w^as  known  to 


128  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

all.  Gossip  had  it  that  his  father,  an  African  Prince, 
had  been  captured  in  his  native  land  for  the  Ameri- 
can slave  trade.  However  that  may  be,  "Father" 
Gay  lived  a  useful  and  sober  life,  and  died  at  a  good 
old  age,  leaving  behind  him  much  land  for  two  sons, 
the  only  surviving  heirs,  and,  best  of  all,  transmit- 
ting to  his  posterity  a  name  untarnished — precious 
and  priceless  legacy! 

John  Gay  was  early  in  life  a  successful  candidate 
for  the  favor  of  the  people.  He  drifted  into  specula- 
tion and  politics,  and  in  both  he  was  a  winner.  He 
was  a  shrewd,  resourceful  man,  fairly  well  educated, 
industrious  and  modest.  For  many  years  until  re- 
cently, he  had,  as  the  leading  representative  of  the 
colored  race  at  the  Capital,  been  called  to  occupy  not 
a  few  places  of  considerable  profit,  trust  and  respon- 
sibility. As  the  years  went  by  his  wealth  increased, 
so  likewise  his  family.  There  were  in  all  seven  chil- 
dren, six  of  them  girls.  A  lad  just  emerging  from 
his  teens,  and  an  older  daughter,  were  away, 
schooling  in  the  North — two  were  married,  the  re- 
mainder at  home  with  their  parents. 

There  were  social  demands  to  be  met,  and  yield- 
ing to  these,  Mr.  Gay  built  and  furnished  a  palatial 
residence  in  a  very  desirable  section  of  the  city,  on 
the  site  of  the  plain  frame  structure  so  long  occu- 
pied by  sire  and  son. 

John  Gay  was  eminently  qualified  to  maintain  a 
sumptuous  home,  for  his  real  estate  w^as  assessed  at 


T^EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  129 

about  $200,000,  and  he  possessed  various  other  hold- 
ings, which,  with  a  conservative  estimate,  would 
double  the  amount  named. 

But  riches  do  not  bring  unalloyed  happiness.  No 
sooner  had  John  Gay  moved  into  his  new  home,  than 
he  was  besieged  by  committees  hailing  from  many 
conferences,  great  and  small,  by  delegations  repre- 
senting various  charitable  institutions,  impecunious 
callers  by  the  score,  and  vagrants  generally.  People 
pleading  all  sorts  of  money  making  devices  swarmed 
down  on  Mr.  Gay.  He  was  not  easily  moved 
by  entreaty,  and  thus  was  not  carried  away  on 
every  idle  wind.  But  the  envious  and  disappointed 
have  their  innings.  They  set  themselves  to  work 
dissecting  the  Gay  household,  everybody  and  every- 
thing connected  therewith.  Strange  as  it  may  seem, 
from  the  intelligent  people,  in  the  main,  the  shafts 
of  malignity  and  evil  speaking  flew  thickest  and 
fastest,  and  with  reckless  avidity.  And  all  this 
while  Mr.  Gay's  friends  were  in  evidence,  volunteer- 
ing counsel  as  to  how  he  should  dispose  of  his  means. 
One  would  suggest  that  he  establish  a  foundling; 
one  that  he  equip  and  maintain  an  old  folks'  home 
for  the  destitute  of  his  race ;  another  that  he  erect  a 
reformatory,  and  another  that  he  build  a  music  hall. 
To  these,  and  many  other  projects  too  numerous  to 
relate,  Mr.  Gay  must  lend  an  ear. 

The  Gay  household  was,  nevertheless,  from  its 
head  down,  a  cheery,  light-hearted  one,  and  Ethel 


130  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

was  reigning  queen.  This  is  not  meant  to  disparage 
the  claims  of  Madge  and  Henrietta,  the  stay-at-home 
sisters,  for  they  were  both  winsome  and  popular 
young  women,  and  only  a  few  years  the  senior  of 
Ethel. 

The  Gays  were  generally  regarded  as  leaders  in 
the  ''social  swim."  Ethel  the  favorite  reckoned 
that  there  were,  by  actual  count,  just  one  hundred 
and  four  persons  in  her  circle.  These  were  culled 
from  Washington's  colored  four  hundred,  and  con- 
stituted the  exclusives — the  cream  of  society. 

Departmental  clerks,  messengers  in  the  Govern- 
ment employ,  business  men,  together  with  the  rep- 
resentatives of  the  several  professions  made  up  the 
colored  social  society  of  the  Capital  City. 

This  kaleidoscopic  spectacle,  this  many  hued  hu- 
man bouquet  of  society  flowers,  while  of  generous 
proportions,  was  not  large  enough  to  take  in  every 
candidate  for  social  place;  had  it  been  otherwise, 
perhaps  there  could  have  been  avoided  the  bicker- 
ings and  jealousies,  engendered  by  the  hundreds 
of  prim  girls  and  natty  men  who  presented  a  dashing 
front  by  reason  of  the  exercise  of  valued  tips 
in  dress  and  manners,  gathered  daily  from 
the  hotels  and  private  mansions  of  the  whites, 
where  these  candidates  were  employed.  In 
this  second  class  are  to  be  counted  the  little 
army  of  dressmakers,  coachmen,  and  genteel 
barbers,  etc.     These  had  a  community  of  interests 


SEITEER  BOND  ?fOR  FREE.  131 

in  common,  but  it  was  of  the  butterfly  variety,  fleet- 
ing and  visionary.  Class  three  was  the  best  prod- 
uct from  the  institution  of  slavery.  In  this 
group  it  is  a  matter  of  pride  to  name  as  members, 
Ralph  Attaway,  John  and  Margaret  Lockley.  And 
yet  another  class,  not  numerous  but  ah!  terribly 
well  defined.  This  is  the  riff-raff  famed  for  its 
shiftlessness  and  licentiousness.  If  class  one  had 
a  modicum  of  ease  and  contentment,  it  were  well 
earned.  These  are  bearing  and  most  bear  the  brunt 
of  all  the  ills  of  the  race  and  also  blaze  the  path 
for  its  future  greatness.  This  class  was  the  ad- 
vance guard — the  flower,  if  you  please,  of  the  army 
of  degradation.  With  the  mass,  it  was  simply  a 
struggle  for  bread.  Whenever  one  could  gain  his 
bread  without  a  struggle,  why  he  left  the  mass  and 
joined  the  class. 

Candor  compels  the  remark  that  Ethel's  one  hun- 
dred and  four  exquisite  cullings  from  the  big  so- 
ciety bunch  were  lacking  in  variety  of  color.  Shall 
I  whisper,  fond  reader,  the  truth  that  black  pansies 
could  not  mmgle  where  octoroons,  quadroons  and 
mulattoes  congregate?  The  line  was  not  so  dis- 
tinctly drawn,  however,  among  the  large  circle  of 
the  four  hundred,  although  the  blacks  were  eyed 
suspiciously  here. 

The  gay  residence  presented  an  animated  scene 
one  night  in  January,  early  after  the  family  had 
taken  possession.     The  occasion  was  a  reception 


133  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

in  honor  of  a  lady  friend  from  New  York — Ethel's 
chum.  The  select,  or  "upper  crust,"  drawn  from 
Washington's  four  hundred  were  out  in  force. 

They  began  to  arrive  a  little  past  the  hour  of 
eight  and  increased  in  numbers  until  nine  o'clock 
found  a  swarm  of  hansoms,  carriages  and  cabs  in 
waiting  about  the  house.  The  presence  of  so  many 
vehicles  may  be  explained  as  due  to  the  prevalence 
of  a  snowstorm,  which  had  been  raging  since  noon- 
time, and  in  consequence  street  car  traffic  was  most 
effectually  blocked.  Radiant  and  happy  were  the 
women  in  their  vari-colored  gowns,  many  of  ex- 
quisite patterns.  The  men,  for  the  greater  part,  were 
fine  appearing,  all  faultlessly  and  appropriately  at- 
tired, and  among  them  some  who  had  made  their 
mark. 

There  was  nothing  wanting  in  the  interior  dec- 
orations of  the  rooms  in  which  the  guests  were  as- 
sembled. Nothing  was  overdone — everything  was 
in  order.  The  furnishings  were  sumptuous  and  the 
color  scheme  of  the  walls  and  decorations  artistic 
in  the  best  sense  of  the  word.  In  the  library  and 
drawing  room,  were  gracefully  arranged  smilax  and 
the  orchid,  w^hile  about  a  dais  placed  in  the  library 
for  the  band,  were  rare  exotics,  so  massed  as  to 
completely  hide  from  view  the  musicians. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  the  orchestra  struck  up 
the  strains  of  the  grand  march  which  had  been  de- 
ferred until  this  hour  awaiting  the  arrival  of  a  cer- 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE,  133 

tain  guest  who  never  came.  Col.  Roberts  was  there 
and  participated  in  the  march,  leading  the  same  as 
partner  to  Miss  Wilheim,  the  guest  of  honor. 

Nearly  every  one  present  knew  that  Charles  Van 
Courtney  was  Ethel's  lover,  but  so  absorbed  were 
all  in  the  soldierly  bearing,  the  fine  physique  and 
polished  manners  of  the  doughty  colonel,  that  they 
quite  forgot  the  sad  plight  of  Ethel.  What  more 
could  heart  wish  or  tongue  proclaim  than  to  feast 
one's  eyes  on  frescoed  walls  and  rich  tapestry,  on 
speaking  flowers  and  potted  plants,  on  a  Colonel, 
too,  one  of  their  own — the  cynosure  of  all  eyes.  No, 
not  of  all  eyes,  for  Ethel  had  a  pair  at  that  mo- 
ment intently  peering  through  the  window  in  quest 
of  Van  Courtney.  She  was  really  pouting — mak- 
ing faces  at  the  snowflakes,  as  they  chased  one  an- 
other in  rapid  succession  in  a  mad  frolic,  or  danced 
in  glee  against  the  window  before  her  eyes — danc- 
ing to  mystic,  rapturous  sounds,  beside  which  those 
within  were  but  a  hollow  mockery. 

It  was  weeks  after  the  big  snow  and  the  memor- 
able dance  before  Ethel  had  any  tidings  from  or 
concerning  Charles  Van  Courtney.  The  enterpris- 
ing news  reporter  never  gave  the  detective  a  thrill- 
ing "write  up,"  for  He  was  truly  ashamed  of  his 
bungling  work. 


134         VEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

LITERARY  LIFE  AT  THE  CAPITAL. 

The  preliminary  exercises  of  the  Blyden  Histori- 
cal and  Literary  Society  being  over,  the  President 
arose  and  said: 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen :  I  will  now  introduce  to 
you  Mr.  James  M.  Hughes  of  this  city,  who  has 
been  selected  to  present  a  paper  for  discussion,  en- 
titled The  Status  of  the  American  Negro.'  "  Mr. 
Hughes  spoke  for  about  twenty-five  minutes,  dis- 
cussing in  the  main  the  treatment  accorded  the  ne- 
gro in  different  sections  of  the  country.  He  went 
back  to  conditions  in  the  South  during  ''Reconstruc- 
tion" times.  "We  are  accustomed,"  he  said,  "to  ask 
ourselves  what  is  the  remedy  for  existing  evils 
meted  out  to  us  in  this  country?  Well,  before  we 
can  find  a  remedy  we  must  know  the  disease  and  its 
cause.  I  take  it  that  all  of  our  ills  are  traceable, 
directly  or  indirectly,  to  our  unpreparedness  for 
citizenship.  After  the  Reconstruction  period  the 
ballot  was  given  the  black  man.  He  realized  his 
"weakness  and  unfitness  for  government.    Coming 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  135 

out  of  darkness  into  the  noonday  light  of  a  splendid 
civilization — an  active  participant  in  political  af- 
fairs, he  perforce  circumstances  recognized  white 
people  as  the  proper  governing  power.  The  South, 
too,  saw  instinctively  that  the  interests  of  both  races 
required  the  intellectual  and  moral  development  of 
the  negro.  The  Republican  party  had  imposed  a 
harsh  condition  on  the  Southern  people  at  the  ter- 
mination of  the  war.  Now  we  have  a  train  of  evil 
following  in  the  w^ake  of  this  wrong.  The  carpet- 
bag regime,  with  its  manfpulation  of  an  ignorant 
and  corrupt  vote,  is  the  fruit  of  the  Fifteenth 
Amendment  to  the  Constitution.  The  intelligent 
and  thoughtful  negro  now  sees  that  it  is  manifestly 
essential  to  the  prosperity  of  the  South,  and  ulti- 
mately to  the  welfare  of  himself,  that  some  restric- 
tion be  put  upon  the  ballot.  In  state  and  local  elec- 
tions the  negro,  for  the  greater  part,  has  always 
been  the  tool  of  the  demagogue,  while  in  national 
elections  he  merely  votes  his  sympathy,  remember- 
ing that  he  was  made  a  free  man  and  a  voter  by  the 
Republican  party.  I  think  that  the  greatest  enemy 
to  the  negro,  and  the  greatest  obstacle  to  his  progress 
is  the  politician,  and,  worst  of  all,  the  negro  politi- 
cian. The  colored  man  is  taught  that  he  is  asserting 
his  independence  by  voting  against  the  very  men  to 
whom  he  must  go  in  time  of  trouble.  If  the  negro 
intends  to  improve  himself  and  his  condition,  he 
must  find  a  w^ay  to  keep  from  being  a  solid  force  at 


136         NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

the  polls  against  the  main  body  of  the  white  people 
at  the  South.  I  have  spoken  somewhat  at  length, 
touching  the  educational,  financial,  moral  and  indus- 
trial outlook  of  the  race.  I  will  conclude  by  saying 
you  must  quit  politics ;  put  behind  you  all  dreams  of 
literary  and  scholastic  attainments,  acquire  practical 
industrial  knowledge,  court  and  deserve  the  friend- 
ship of  the  best  white  people  in  your  neighborhood. 
Heed  the  advice  of  Oscar  Richards,  the  leader  of  our 
race :    'Leave  the  negro  problem  to  the  South.'  " 

As  Hughes  finished  his  paper  a  dozen  persons 
were  on  their  feet  to  make  reply  to  it. 

The  speaker  who  opened  the  discussion  said  that 
he  agreed  "fully  with  the  sentiments  so  ably  pre- 
sented in  the  paper  of  Mr.  Hughes."  He  regretted, 
however,  that  the  speaker  omitted  all  reference  to 
*'lynch  law — the  one  great  topic  of  the  day." 

Throughout  the  South  the  various  legislatures 
make  liberal  allowances  for  the  support  of  the  col- 
ored public  schools.  According  to  the  Commission 
of  Education  of  the  United  States,  the  Southern 
whites  have  contributed  to  the  cause  of  education 
among  our  people  at  the  South  more  than  $75,000,- 
000,  and  the  Principal  of  the  great  Southern  Insti- 
tute for  the  Colored  Race  says  that  of  the  $4,000,000 
contributed  yearly  for  negro  education,  $3,000,000 
comes  from  the  South. 

"I  think  that  our  teachers,  ministers,  leaders 
generally  and  the  press,  should  bestir  themselves 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  13? 

arousing  such  a  public  sentiment  against  the  crimes 
to  women  by  negro  fiends  as  will  effectually  put  a 
Ftop  to  the  commission  of  such  heinous  offences  by 
our  people." 

This  speaker  was  followed  by  another  in  an  en- 
tirely different  strain.  He  began :  "From  what  we 
have  heard  to-night,  one  would  easily  be  led  to  be- 
lieve that  the  average  negro  is  the  constant  com- 
panion of  evil  and  the  sum  of  all  villainies.  But  I 
am  here  to  say  that  he  is  not  so  black  as  he  is  painted. 
He  is  more  sinned  against  than  sinning. 

"Mr.  Hughes  has  emphasized  the  negro's  ^unpre- 
paredness'  for  the  ballot.  Nobody  will  dispute  that 
statement.  It  would  seem  that  the  speaker  would 
have  his  hearers  believe  that  if  the  negro  is  to  retain 
his  suffrage  in  states  where  he  has  not  already  been 
deprived  of  it,  he  must  vote  as  his  more  powerful 
white  neighbor  directs. 

"Now,  would  this  step  help  us  to  solve  the  negro 
problem?  The  Southern  Democrats  do  not  ask  the 
negro  to  vote  with  them,  and  what  is  more  to  the 
point,  they  have  no  need  of  his  vote  there.  If  the 
negro  is  really  to  confess  that  the  white  man  knows 
best  about  public  questions,  why  then  go  to  the  polls  ? 
Why  not  leave  the  whole  matter  with  the  white 
man?  Suffrage  is  of  no  individual  benefit,  and  con- 
fers no  privilege  in  which  a  man  may  take  pride 
unless  it  is  exercised  without  restraint.  Again,  the 
speaker,  I  repeat,  refers  to  the  'unpreparedness'  of 


138  in  EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

the  negro  voter.  In  the  adjustment  of  economic 
problems  like  the  tariff  and  currency,  the  negro  cast 
his  ballot  for  protection  and  sound  money.  The 
Southern  Democracy  had  their  votes  counted  for 
free  trade,  and  we  had  as  a  result  the  Gorman-Wil- 
son law.  Had  the  negro  vote  been  counted  the 
House  would  have  given  us  a  protective  tariff  meas- 
vre.  The  Democracy  of  the  South  gave  the  country 
Grover  Cleveland,  the  negro  intended  his  vote  for 
James  G.  Blaine.  The  former  stood  for  free  trade, 
the  latter  was  the  apostle  of  protection.  There  will 
soon  be  waged  the  battle  of  the  standards — the 
greatest  political  parties  are  now  about  to  line  up  for 
the  fray — and  I  predict  that  the  negro  will  help  save 
the  credit  of  the  nation  by  voting  for  gold,  while 
the  Southern  Democracy  supports  the  silver  idea. 

''Nowadays  there  are  no  purely  humanitarian 
questions  in  politics.  In  place  of  human  rights,  we 
are  called  on  to  deal  with  economic  problems,  such 
as  tariff,  taxation,  trade,  currency,  the  rights  of 
capital  and  labor.  These  are  the  all-engrossing 
questions,  sweeping  aside  the  nobler  sentiments  and 
loftier  aspirations  of  mankind.  But  the  speaker,  'i 
would  seem,  has  been  studying  the  race  question  at 
the  feet  of  Oscar  Richards,  whom  he  denominates 
our  leader.  Alas!  we  have  no  leader.  Our  leader 
has  gone  before.  When  Frederick  Douglass  was 
living  we  had  a  champion — a  born  leader  of  men. 
But  we  shall  never  look  upon  his  like  again," 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE,  139 

The  speaker  resumed  his  seat.  Another  member 
of  the  society  was  recognized. 

*'I  have  risen,"  he  said,  *'only  to  enter  my  protest 
against  Fred  Douglass  being  called  'our  leader.'  He 
was  no  leader  for  me.  He  was  a  hybrid  of  natal 
dishonor.  He  was  a  miscegenationist.  After  he  had, 
by  constantly  harping  on  the  negro,  grown  great  in 
honors  and  rich  in  worldly  possessions,  he  went 
forth  in  quest  of  a  wife,  and  behold,  he  could  find 
no  woman  of  his  own  race  good  and  grand  enough 
for  him  to  wed — and  he  must  marry  a  white 
woman." 

The  applause  that  greeted  this  tirade  was  deafen- 
ing. Men  stamped  their  feet  and  clapped  their  hands 
until  the  building  shook.  And  the  women,  in  a  par- 
oxysm of  glee,  stood  up  one  moment,  the  next  to 
bound  in  their  seats.  It  is  true,  there  were  hisses  of 
disgust  at  the  unusual  proceedings,  and  cries  of  or- 
der, but  they  were  decidedly  in  the  minority. 

All  this  time  there  stood  in  the  main  aisle,  grim 
and  sullen,  a  solitary  figure.  It  was  Toussaint  Rip- 
ley. There  he  stood,  resolute,  yet  abashed.  Highly 
sensitive  and  impressionable  at  all  times,  he  was 
raturally  wrought  up  when  once  his  interests  or  at- 
tachments were  rudely  disturbed.  Toussaint's  eyes 
glowed  with  intense  earnestness.  He  nervously 
pressed  one  hand  against  the  seat  next  him.  Rais- 
ing the  other,  he  invoked  silence.  After  quiet  had 
been  in  a  measure  restored,   he,   in   a  hesitating. 


140         NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE, 

shambling  manner,  and  with  husky  voice  betraying 
the  nervous  excitement  he  felt,  said : 

''Mr.  President :  My  coming  in  your  presence 
to-night  is  by  mere  chance.  I  am  a  stranger  both  to 
you  and  your  city.  I  feel  that  I  ought  not  to  intrude 
myself  on  this  notable  gathering,  and  I  should  not 
do  so,  believe  me,  if  my  own  thoughts  were  in  ac- 
cord with  the  prevailing  sentiment  first  voiced  here. 
What  concerns  me  most  are  not  the  views  of  the 
leader  of  this  discussion,  but  rather  the  reflections 
of  the  speaker  who  was  last  heard,  touching  the 
character  and  worth  of  a  man  whose  memory  I  re- 
vere. 

"Let  me  here  say  that  I  honor  the  name  and  fame 
of  Oscar  Richards.  He  is  a  grand  and  good  man — a 
splendid  product  of  the  new  order  of  things.  He  is 
doing  a  good  work — leading  a  highly  useful  life. 
We  are  now  just  beginning  to  estimate  his  worth. 
Another  generation  will  measure  his  work.  But 
what  of  Frederick  Douglass?  Was  he  not  also  a 
great  and  noble  man  ?  I  need  attempt  no  comparison 
of  Richards  and  Douglass.  They  differ  in  their  pur- 
poses as  widely  as  their  years  and  the  times  in 
which  they  were  called  to  action.  Perhaps  they  were 
only  alike  in  one  respect,  their  conscientious  convic- 
tion to  duty — apart  in  all  things  else.  Douglass 
went  forth  with  Phillips  and  Giddings  and  Garrison 
to  help  clear  the  way  for  Richards.  The  old  and  the 
young  were  then  bond.    Douglass  pleaded  with  the 


2f EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  141 

North  to  sunder  the  shackles  and  free  the  captive. 
Three  decades  are  past  and  here  we  are,  neither  bond 
nor  free.  And  thus  Richards  pleads  with  the  South 
to  save  us  from  a  cruel  oppression.  Douglass  came 
forth  from  the  pit  of  human  slavery  with  no  star  to 
guide.  But  with  Richards  the  stars  fight  for  him  in 
their  course.  And  yet,  Douglass  and  Richards  are 
but  links  in  the  chain  of  human  destiny  forged  upon 
the  anvil  of  oppression.  'New  occasions  teach  new 
duties.'  Mr.  Douglass  illustrated  the  possibilities  of 
the  negro  race  as  no  man  has  ever  done.  He  proved 
the  justice  of  the  assertion  that  a  man's  worth  should 
not  be  measured  by  the  color  of  his  skin".  He  was 
a  great  orator,  and  like  that  great  commoner  John 
Bright,  his  voice  had  the  simple  charm  and  his  man- 
ner the  magnetism.  He  possessed  great  breadth  of 
character.  And  it  has  been  truly  said  of  him  that  he 
made  friendships  where  a  narrower  mind  than  his 
would  have  compelled  lasting  enmity.  He  was  not 
a  race  man,  in  its  narrow  sense.  He  was  humanity's 
man,  for  he  was  a  lover  of  men.  He  taught  the  gos- 
pel of  humanity,  recognizing  only  one  race,  and 
that  the  human  race.  Now  then,  could  he  have  been 
a  miscegenationist?  Let  us  hear  the  sage  himself 
on  this  point.  It  was  only  a  few  days  next  succeed- 
ing the  marriage  of  Frederick  Douglass  to  his  sec- 
ond wife,  when  I  received  a  letter  from  him  in  reply 
to  one  which  I  had  sent. 

"I  have  it  with  me.  Allow  me  to  read  it :    1  am 


142  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

charged  with  having  married  a  lady  a  few  shades 
lighter  in  complexion  than  myself.  I  am  not 
ashamed  of  that  charge,  and  ask  no  man's  pardon. 
What  business  has  any  other  man  with  the  color  of 
my  wife?  and  what  business  have  I  with  the  color  of 
any  other  man's  wife?  Let  every  man  be  contented 
with  the  color  of  his  own  wife,  and  cease  to  trouble 
himself  about  the  color  of  other  men's  wives,  and  we 
shall  then  have  much  less  trouble  in  the  world. 

"  'Washington,  January  28,  1884.' 

"Now,  this  letter  is  the  conclusion  of  the  whole 
matter." 

Toussaint  sat  down,  apparently  careless  of  the 
generous  applause  which  came  from  the  whole  gath- 
ering. The  fervid  style  of  his  oratory,  the  dispas- 
sionate treatment  of  the  discussion  and  the  presen- 
tation and  effective  reading  of  the  autograph  letter 
of  the  famous  man,  awakened  enthusiasm  in  the 
breasts  of  the  apologists  of  Mr.  Douglass,  and  ef- 
fectually silenced  the  tongues  of  slander. 

The  presiding  officer  invited  attention  to  the  sub- 
ject under  discussion,  adding  that  the  speeches  were 
of  a  digressive  nature,  which  could  no  longer  be 
tolerated.  This  remark  silenced  some  persons  who 
were  eager  to  gain  the  floor — mainly  to  questions  of 
privilege  and  personal  explanation.  One  irrepres- 
sible arose  and  delivered  himself  as  follows :  "I 
wish  to  say  just  a  word  concerning  the  inter-mar- 
riage question.    I,  too,  am  opposed  to  miscegena- 


If  EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  143 

tion,  but  my  opposition  differs  from  that  of  the  blue- 
vein  aristocracy  of  the  South.  They  are  opposed 
to  miscegenation  sanctioned  by  law,  yet  they  favor 
miscegenation  by  brute  force.  The  dire  work  of 
miscegenation  is  being  carried  on  to-day  in  this 
country.  Who  started  this  heinous  crime  that  has 
been  going  on  for  more  than  two  hundred  years,  un- 
til the  race  is  not  a  negro  race  but  a  colored  race? 
Look  over  this  audience  and  you  will  see  every  shade 
of  color  found  among  the  human  race.  The  blacks 
you  will  observe  are  a  small  minority  of  the  whole. 
We  have  them  here  who  betray  no  semblance  to  the 
so-called  negro  race — as  fair  as  the  fairest — and 
yet  only  one  of  their  parents  is  identified  with  the 
colored  race.  Certainly  the  poor  whites  are  not 
to  be  blamed  for  this  amalgamation,  for  they  cor- 
dially hate  us.  Before  the  war  the  negro  women 
were  not  responsible  for  this  horrible  state  of  af- 
fairs, but  to-day  they  and  the  Southern  aristocracy 
are  particeps  criminis — and  together  they  must  bear 
the  disgrace.  The  blue-vein  aristocracy  of  the 
South  makes  the  open  charge  that  we  are  an  im- 
moral people  and  at  the  same  time  It  is  they  who 
are  playing  havoc  with  our  morals  and  mixing  and 
weakening  the  race  most  alarmingly." 

Earnest  attention  accompanied  the  delivery  of 
the  foregoing  remarks.  The  next  speaker  said: 
'*We  have  in  this  country  a  population  of  about 
nine  millions  of  citizens  of  African  descent.     Eight 


144  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

millions  of  them  are  in  the  South.  The  white  pop- 
ulation of  the  Southern  States  is  about  double  that 
cjf  the  colored  race.  The  negro  does  not  assimilate 
with  the  white  race,  and  thus  he  is  considered  as 
an  alien.  As  I  understand  it,  the  Southern  white 
man  regards  us  as  either  the  active  or  sympathetic 
foe  to  law  and  order.  We,  at  the  same  time,  de- 
clare that  his  reason  is  blinded  by  his  prejudice 
towards  us  as  a  race.  We  are,  therefore,  intensely 
suspicious  of  the  white  man's  every  movement  in 
our  direction. 

'There  is  a  race  problem  and  we  must  all  real- 
ize its  workings,  and  set  ourselves  to  w^ork  to  ef- 
fect a  solution  of  it.  Earnest  and  eager  men  of 
both  races  are  puzzling  their  wits  as  to  the  methods 
to  be  adopted  which  will  aid  the  solution  of  this 
problem.  There  is  no  one  way  to  solve  it.  There 
are  many  ways  for  its  solution.  First  of  all  the 
white  man  must  leave  out  the  question  of  com- 
plexion and  learn  to  judge  us  not  by  color,  but  by 
character.  That  is  to  be  the  only  criterion.  We 
must  at  the  same  time  bear  in  mind  that  neither  the 
occupation  of  the  country  nor  its  civilization  are 
ours. 

'The  whites  must  remember  that  we  are  not  all 
degraded.  There  is  only  a  small  per  cent,  of  the 
negro  race  vicious  and  depraved.  There  is  also  the 
degraded  class  of  poor  whites,  who  never  lose  an 
opportunity  to  villify  us.     They  are  hounding  us 


iJEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  l45 

down  and  attempting  to  keep  up  a  guerilla  war  of 
extermination.  No,  I  will  not  dignify  this  thing 
and  call  it  guerilla  warfare.  It  is  mobocracy,  or, 
better,  the  kingdom  of  hell  set  up  here  on  earth. 
Where  lynch  law  prevails,  there  civilization  has  fled 
to  brutish  beasts.  Mob  law  of  to-day  is,  after  all, 
but  the  last  feeble  expression  of  men — the  under- 
lings of  their  i ace— vainly  seeking  an  excuse  to  in- 
augurate a  reign  of  terror,  having  for  its  sequel  the 
extermination  of  a  race  with  which  they  cannot 
much  longer  compete.  Ku-kluxs,  White  Caps, 
White  Liners,  Regulators  and  Lynchers  are  all  in- 
tended to  accentuate  race  prejudice — which  is  the 
moving  spirit  of  dread  race  antipathy  and  distrust. 

Every  one  knows  that  a  large  majority  of  our  peo- 
ple are  peaceable,  law-abiding  citizens.  We  are  no 
more  nor  less  responsible  for  the  criminal  class  of 
our  people  than  are  the  white  people.  We  are  asked 
to  help  capture  the  scoundrels  of  our  own  race  who 
commit  the  savagery  that  causes  lynchings.  We 
will  do  our  best  to  root  out  and  discourage  every 
semblance  of  vice  and  evil ;  but  if  the  whites  having 
absolutely  all  the  machinery  of  the  law — all  the 
guns  and  all  the  powder — cannot  overtake  and  cap- 
ture the  scoundrels,  we  are  then  powerless  to  do 
so. 

"Let  the  whites,  however,  not  despair,  for  Judge 
Lynch  is  making  a  fairly  good  record  in  his  bloody 
work — and  this  without  our  aid.     Through  the  fiat 


146  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

of  Judge  Lynch  50,000  black  men  have  been  put  to 
death  in  this  land.  Some  of  these  men  were  guilty 
of  various  crimes,  others  were  guiltless  of  all  of- 
fense. If  the  white  men  of  the  South  would  lend  a 
hand  and  help  us  to  protect  our  wives  and  daughters 
this  act  would  prove  a  powerful  incentive  to  en- 
courage us  to  protect  their  females." 

"I  had  purposed,"  remarked  the  President,  "to 
contribute  a  few  words  to  this  most  interesting  dis- 
cussion, but  the  time  limit  for  the  debate  has  arrived. 
We  have  all,  I  trust,  profited  by  what  we  have 
heard.  From  the  trend  of  the  discussion  to-night  I 
gather  that  the  negro  is  constantly  brooding  over  his 
present  ills,  instead  of  occupying  his  mind  and  time 
with  better  things;  that  the  white  man  North  is 
gradually  letting  go  the  negro,  leaving  him  to  toddle 
alone  or  fall.  This  last  is  as  it  should  be.  We  may 
well  pause  and  ask,  'Watchman,  what  of  the  night  ?' 
The  answer  of  solemn  warning  is,  'that  out  of  one 
blood  God  made  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  to  dwell 
together  in  peace.'  If  men  will  not  heed  the  warn- 
ing— if  the  discordant  elements  of  both  races  will 
continue  to  sow  the  seed  of  discord — we  will  re- 
member that  they  who  sow  to  the  wind  shall  reap  the 
whirlwind.     Thus  spake  my  Lord." 


"NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  ^47 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

POLITICS  IN  THE  SOUTH. 

Toussaint's  last  term  as  a  pedagogue  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  presence  in  the  neighborhood  where 
he  taught,  of  a  mild  epidemic,  prevalent  among  the 
young  people.  This,  however,  was  severe  enough 
to  necessitate  the  closing  of  District  School  No.  7 
for  a  short  period.  Toussaint  availed  himself  of  this 
circumstance  to  gratify  a  long  standing  ambition 
to  visit  the  Congress  of  the  United  States,  and  hear 
the  debates  then  in  progress.  What  he  there  saw 
and  heard  fired  his  ardent  and  impetuous  nature  un- 
til his  ambition  knew  no  bounds.  Little  wonder  he 
could  not  contain  his  pent-up  oratory  until  he 
reached  home,  but  must  tarry,  as  we  have  seen,  at 
the  Blyden  Literary,  and  there  pour  out  an  effusion, 
quieting  the  troubled  waters. 

Toussaint  had  for  years,  so  he  said,  waited  eager- 
ly for  an  opportunity  to  help  his  people.  The  op- 
portunity that  he  had  so  long  sought  was  now  upon 
him.  This,  of  course,  was  the  calculation  of  our 
hero.     The  spring  of  189—  in  the  County  of  E , 


148  ^EITHER  BOVD  NOR  FREE. 

was  memorable  for  three  things:  the  large  crop  of 
candidates  which  it  yielded  for  county  offices,  the 
acrimony  engendered  on  account  of  the  rivalry  of 
office  seekers  and  the  open  bribery  and  corruption 
everywhere  visible  among  the  venal  voters.  With 
a  race  having  few  members  in  these  parts  who  could 
boast  the  art  of  public  speaking  on  the  hustings  and 
platform,  Toussaint  was  easily  in  favor.  He  be- 
came almost  famous  in  a  day.  He  scaled  the  dizzy 
heights  of  distinction  among  the  lowly  at  a  single 
bound.  His  fondness  for  politics  was  not  alto- 
gether a  passion.  He  inherited  a  taste  for  the 
whirligig  of  public  life  from  his  father,  who  had 
before  him  been  active  in  the  memorable  politics  of 
Reconstruction  times.  And  years  afterwards  the 
elder  Ripley  esteemed  it  a  worthy  privilege  to  take 
the  boy  Toussaint  by  the  hand  and  lead  him  to  the 
precinct  meetings,  and  there  set  him  down  in  the 
midst  of  the  new  citizen,  who,  wrestling  with  the 
alphabet  of  politics,  was  chafing  and  taxing  his  lung 
power  in  calling  ^'Mestor  Cheerman,"  and  con- 
stantly rising  to  some  "p'int  o'  order." 

The  better  element  of  the  colored  citizens  was 
generally  conspicuous  by  its  absence.  Toussaint 
was  the  new  Moses,  whose  peculiar  mission  it  was 
to  purify  and  build  up  the  Republican  party  in  this 
benighted  section.  He  was  an  inveterate  reader, 
devouring  indiscriminately  history,  literature,  phi- 
losophy, together  with  desultory  reading  on  the  race 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  149 

question.  He  felt  that  he  was  now  fully  equipped 
for  the  political  arena — the  fearless  champion  of  a 
down-trodden  race.  True,  he  had  on  only  the 
swaddling  clothes  of  political  economy  and  phi- 
losophy, but  then  there  were  no  literati  among  those 
whose  leader  he  had  proclaimed  himself.  The  best 
were  mere  pygmies,  and  among  them  he  stood  a 
full-grown  giant. 

Toussaint  was  fond  of  the  Lockleys  ever  after 
his  discovery  of  Merna.  He  became  a  frequent 
visitor  at  their  home.  On  his  return  from  the 
Capital  City  he  called  to  tell  about  the  sights  he 
there  witnessed,  about  Ethel, — and,  of  course,  to  talk 
about  Merna.  He  had  not  heard  from  her  since 
the  time  when  she  and  her  uncle  left  Boston  for 
Liberia — soon  after  the  death  of  her  mother. 

In  answer  to  a  query  concerning  Merna,  Uncle 
John  replied: 

"Marg'ret  had  a  letter  from  her  lately,  and  in 
it  she  talks  about  coming  down  to  see  us,  as  she's 
got  so  many  things  to  tell  us  of  our  own  country 
land — where  she's  been." 

*^I  hope  she  will  come,"  said  Toussaint. 

They  were  both  quiet  for  a  moment.  Toussaint 
was  the  first  to  speak.  "If  she  could  only  happen 
here  now  and  hear  me  *spell  bind,'  "  he  remarked, 
with  evident  pride. 

"I  don't  e'zactly  understand  you,"  wistfully  spoke 
Uncle  John, 


150  'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

''No,  I  guess  you  don't.  'Spell-bind'  is  the  word 
we  speakers  use  for  political  speech  making.  By- 
the-by,  why  is  it,  Uncle  John,  you  don't  attend  our 
public  meetings  and  take  some  interest  in  politics?" 

"What's  the  meeting's  for?" 

"Why,  Uncle  John,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  to 
ask  such  a  question." 

"How  am  I  to  know  if  I  don't  ask,"  he  replied, 
good  naturedly. 

"But  every  good  citizen  is  supposed  to  know 
about  public  questions.  He  must  keep  his  eyes  wide 
open  and  help  to  elect  good  men  to  office." 

"W^ell,  my  son,  I  am  nigh  unto  70  years  old — so 
they  tell  me;  an'  I  haven't  bothered  myself  'bout 
the  'lections;  and  things  have  been  goin'  along 
prutty  well,  as  far  as  I  hear  tell." 

"You  are  wrong;  things  are  not  right,"  insisted 
Toussaint.  "Here  we  have  a  county  containing  at 
least  a  thousand  more  colored  than  white  voters,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  two  hundred  so-called  white  Re- 
publicans, and  yet  we  have  not  had  a  colored  man 
in  any  office  for  a  long  while,  save  as  Justice  of  the 
Peace." 

"Ole  Jestis  Williams,  seems  to  me  he's  been  mak- 
ing mighty  heap  o'  trouble  with  the  white  folks." 

"Well,  Uncle  John,  you  do  remember  something 
about  politics  after  all." 

"Yes,  I  remember  years  ago  when  we  had  the 
whippin'  pos' — I  didn't  see  it,  but  they  tell  me  that 


'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  151 

he  tied  a  young  white  missis  up  and  whipped  her; 
and  the  white  folks  all  got  down  on  him  worse. 
And  then  they  said  they  was  goin'  to  kill  all  the 
niggers  and  shet  up  the  darky  schools." 

'That  sounds  like  a  fairy  tale.  The  Democrats 
are  always  trying  to  fool  the  ignorant  of  our  peo- 
ple. It  wasn't  Justice  Williams  but  Justice  Haw- 
kins who  had  the  girl  whipped." 

"Yes,  that's  the  name — Hawkins,"  said  Uncle 
John. 

"Justice  Hawkins  followed  the  law.  The  poor 
white  girl  had  stolen  something,  and  she  was 
flogged  for  it  just  the  same  as  your  daughter,  if 
you  had  one,  or  my  sister  would  have  been  pun- 
ished had  they  stolen.  The  law  was  made  by  white 
men  to  disfranchise  the  negro  voter,  that  is  to  pre- 
vent him  from  voting,  and  to  degrade  him  and  his 
race." 

Uncle  John  looked  up  in  the  speaker's  face,  shook 
his  head  ominously,  then  let  it  drop.  He  said 
nothing. 

"Am  I  not  right?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Ripley,  you  are  right,  mebbe,  but  it 
seems  to  me  white  folks  ain't  goin'  to  stan'  that." 

'^But  they  have  got  to  stand  that  or  worse.  We 
are  American  freemen,  and  one  man  is  as  good  as 
another." 

"You  is  a  man  of  learnin',  and  I  reckon  I  hadn't 
oughter  dispute  you.     But  it  'pears  to  me  as  we 


152  'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

got  to  live  here  in  the  South,  that  the  white  folks 
and  we  wants  to  get  along  as  best  we  can  with 
them.  They  got  all  the  money,  the  work  and  the 
schools — everything." 

"The  white  folks,  you  must  remember,  are  just  as 
much  dependent  on  us  as  we  are  on  them.  If  they 
don't  give  us  work,  we  can  go  off  to  the  North  and 
West  and  work." 

''But  all  them  notions  calls  for  money.  When 
our  folks  go  off  to  look  for  work,  if  they  don't  get 
it  soon,  they  starve  and  die." 

*'Well,  there  are  many  questions  which  you  don't 
understand,  and  I'm  afraid  I  cannot  make  them 
plain  to  you." 

"E'zactly  so,  but  my  mother  wit  tells  me  what's 
right." 

"And  my  education  and  judgment  teach  me 
what's  right  for  us  and  those  who  are  to  follow  us. 
It  takes  lots  of  judgment  to  keep  our  people's  feet 
out  of  the  crooked  path." 

"When  you  was  teachin'  I  use  to  tell  my  ole 
woman, — 'Marg'ret,'  says  I,  'Toussain'  Ripley  is  the 
right  sort  o'  man.  He's  makin'  men  and  women  of 
our  young  folks.'  " 

"This  is  a  progressive  age,  and  he  w^ho  does  not 
go  forward  goes  backward." 

^'Somehow,  Mr.  Ripley,  it  seems  to  me  like  you 
made  a  mistake  to  quit  off  learnin'  children  and  go 
'lectioneering,  as  you  call  it." 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  153 

"No,  it  is  not  exactly  electioneering.  I  am  a  race 
man.  I  mean  to  see  to  it  that  my  race  cultivates 
the  true  spirit  of  race  pride,  putting  their  own  peo- 
ple before  every  other  race.  Look  at  the  white 
man;  he  honors  his  race.  Well,  I  want  our  people 
to  look  up  and  be  true  and  fearless  men.  In  a  few 
weeks  there  will  be  an  election  for  town  and  county 
officers.  We  have  put  up  an  almost  solid  colored 
Republican  ticket,  a  dyed-in-the-wool  ticket.  Dyed- 
in-the-wool  reminds  me  of  the  way  the  great  Fred. 
Douglass  spoke  of  his  own  Republicanism.  Now  I 
want  you,  Uncle  John,  to  be  at  the  meeting  to- 
night. It  takes  place  on  the  Court  House  green. 
I  am  to  make  the  principal  speech.  Come  and  let 
me  know  what  you  think  of  my  doctrine." 

"Oh,  I'm  hearin'  of  you.  Everybody's  talkin'  of 
Toussain'  Ripley.  People  say  you're  right  smart. 
But  what  is  it  I  was  sayin'  about  you  jus'  now? 
Oh,  I  know,  I  was  a-sayin'  how — how  you  ought'n 
stop  learnin'  children  to  go  into  'lectioneerin'  busi- 
ness." 

"Yes,  I  answered  you." 

"I  kinder  didn't  jus'  understan'  you." 

"Well,  it's  just  this.  I  feel  that  I  can  be  of  more 
service  to  my  race  in  politics  than  as  a  country 
teacher." 

"Well,  if  you  stick  to  teachin',  who  can't  tell 
what'll  happen?  You  might  some  day  be  a  bi^ 
teacher  like  Oscar  Richards." 


154  'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

"I  would  rather  be  true  to  my  race  than  be  a  big 
teacher." 

"Isn't  Richards  true  to  his  race  ?" 

"Not  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  just  what  I  say.  Oscar  Richards  is  in- 
juring his  race,  and  that  beyond  repair.  He  is 
teaching  our  young  men  and  young  women  to  re- 
gard the  white  people  as  their  superiors — telling 
them  that  they  must  find  a  place  amid  the  humble 
pursuits  of  life  as  they  are  not  fitted  for  the  higher 
stations  to  which  all  ambitious  white  people  aspire. 
Let  me  give  you  a  sample  of  his  teaching.  A  little 
while  ago  there  was  a  fire  at  the  State  University, 
which  destroyed  some  of  the  principal  buildings 
there.  You  know  that  this  is  a  white  school.  The 
Superintendent  of  Public  Instruction  for  the  State 
urged  the  teachers  in  all  the  schools  under  him  to 
send  in  contributions  to  aid  in  rebuilding  the  houses 
destroyed.  What  do  you  think?  Why,  among  the 
earliest  contributions  received  was  a  fund  from  the 
Primary  Department  of  Oscar  Richards'  Institute. 
One  bright  little  fellow,  in  his  eagerness  to  help  to 
rebuild  a  school  which  would  for  all  time  exclude 
him,  brought  a  basket  containing  a  dozen  eggs, 
which  he  requested  be  sold,  and  the  proceeds  ap- 
j.lied  to  the  University  Fund.  Why,  I  ask,  was  not 
this  boy  taught  to  save  those  pennies  to  help  pay  his 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  155 

own,  or  a  sister's,  or  some  other  colored  boy's  way 
through  school?" 

"I  think  that  was  a  good  thing,  Mr.  Ripley.  His 
teacher  was  learnin'  him  to  do  good  for  evil." 

''Better  an  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth, 
with  such  heartless  reprobates  as  are  turned  out 
from  that  Institution."  Then  he  added  abruptly: 
''Well,  I  must  leave  you.  Of  course,  you  will  come 
to  our  meeting  to  hear  me  speak." 

"Yes,  I  will  try  an'  hobble  out  to  hear  you,  but  I 
don't  go  roun'  much  o'  nights." 

Political  mass  meetings  in  the  peaceable  County 

of  E are  usually  well  attended,  and  the  negro 

suffragist  may  here  vote  and  cheer  as  lustily  as  the 
rest,  for  there  are  none  to  molest  or  make  him 
afraid. 

Toussaint  reached  the  place  of  meeting  unat- 
tended, and  clambered  to  the  top  of  the  tall  rickety 
platform,  which  stood  like  a  scaffold  against  the 
sombre  walls  of  the  old  court  house.  There  was  a 
dense  mass  of  black  faces,  relieved  here  and  there 
of  its  monotony  by  the  sprinkling  of  mulattoes,  and 
the  fringe  of  white  faces.  Apart  from  the  crowd 
stood  a  dozen  or  more  Democrats.  Old  man  Lock- 
ley,  true  to  his  word,  had  been  on  hand  since  dark, 
in  order  to  maintain  a  position  near  the  stage.  On 
the  platform  was  seated  the  white  candidate  for 
Clerk  of  Court,  who  was  also  Chairman  of  the  Re- 
publican Committee;  the  other  white  officer  (can- 


156  Hi  EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

didate  for  treasurer)  had  but  recently  cast  his  for- 
tunes with  the  ''nigger"  party,  and  he  forsooth  was 
conveniently  absent  from  the  meeting.  There  were, 
perhaps,  a  dozen  colored  men  who  had  voted  them- 
selves seats  upon  the  stage.  These  persons,  how^- 
ever,  were  fit  representatives — or,  better,  types  of 
those  who  stood  below. 

The  candidate  for  clerk  was  no  speaker.  He  was 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  an  intense  office  seeker. 
There  was  present  a  species  of  the  "stony  ground" 
preacher,  who  opened  the  meeting  with  prayer,  and 
afterwards  harangued  the  assemblage  for  more  than 
an  hour,  to  the  enthusiasm  of  the  colored  cohorts, 
and  the  evident  disgust  of  his  white  hearers,  who 
were  sympathizers  with  the  opposition  party — and 
were  present  out  of  mere  idle  curiosity. 

Toussaint's  political  effort  was  in  part  as  follows : 
^'Fellow  Citizens :  One  week  from  to-night  you 
will  know  the  result  of  the  election.  You  will  know 
whether  or  not  black  men  have  been  true  to  them- 
selves. We  have  a  strong  Republican  ticket  in  the 
field,  containing,  out  of  a  total  of  seventeen  ofifices 
to  be  filled,  fifteen  candidates  of  our  own  race.  I 
wish  sincerely  that  they  were  all  colored,  for  we 
have  ever  been  voting  for  white  men  for  office,  not- 
withstanding we  constitute  well  nigh  the  entire  Re- 
publican party  in  this  county.  Shame  on  the  fair 
name  of  my  State !  How  she  has  degenerated ! 
How  her  mighty  have  fallen!     The  bug-a-boo  of 


NEITHER  BOND  NOB  FREE.  157 

negro  domination  follows  swiftly  on  the  heels  of 
that  other  myth,  social  equality  between  the  races. 
The  last  is  well  nigh  dissipated ;  the  first  is  the  fruit- 
ful source  of  all  our  ills  in  the  body  politic.  We 
have  long  ago  learned  to  expect  nothing  good  from 
a  poor  white  man  where  a  negro  is  in  question,  and 
your  aristocracy  have  given  themselves  over  to  a 
reprobate  mind — to  open  bribery  and  corruption. 

''In  our  last  municipal  election,  the  Democracy 
had  as  its  candidate  for  mayor  a  citizen  whose 
name  had  hitherto  been  regarded  as  a  tower  of 
strength  and  a  synonym  for  honor  and  integrity. 
But  his  managers  went  out  into  the  market  to  buy 
negro  votes — no  attempt  being  made  at  conceal- 
ment. One  paid  off  in  checks,  the  other  in  cash. 
The  negroes  would  enter  from  the  east  side,  and 
being  vouched  for,  emerge  from  the  west  exit  with 
$5  bills  in  their  hands.  In  many  instances,  the  pay- 
master pinned  the  bills  on  the  negro  lapels,  and 
they  circulated  through  the  crowed,  bringing  recruits 
to  their  candidate's  forces.  The  negroes  were 
urged  to  vote  promptly,  as  the  price  would  soon 
drop  from  $5  to  $2.50.  Thus  you  see  that  the 
better  class  of  our  people  must  hold  themselves  aloof 
from  the  debased  men  of  all  races,  who  continue 
to  barter  away  their  God-given  rights  as  Amer- 
ican freemen. 

"Think  of  it,  every  man  of  you,  no  matter  how 
black  or  how  humble,  no  matter  how  ignorant  or 


158  'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

how  poor,  is  an  uncrowned  king,  and  the  ballot  is 
your  insignia  of  power — it  is  your  royal  sceptre. 
The  king,  however,  should  not  defile  himself.  He 
should  not  leave  his  high  estate  and  accept  bribes. 

*'And,  again,  think  of  your  wives  and  children 
at  home.  These  are  your  sacred  trust.  You  are 
their  chosen  representatives.  No  delegated  power 
conferred  by  man  can  equal  yours.  You  speak  with 
divine  authority.  Your  commission  is  from  God. 
See  that  you  bear  his  seal  upon  your  brow.  The 
ballot  was  given  to  protect  not  alone  yourselves, 
but  as  well  those  who  cannot  speak  for  themselves. 
Do  not,  I  entreat  you,  fetter  anew  the  limbs  of  wife 
and  babe,  born  and  unborn."  A  mighty  shout  went 
up  in  approval  of  that  last  sentim.ent.  Continuing 
he  said : 

''My  friends,  we  have  many  dishonest  and  treach- 
erous people  among  us.  We  have  the  shiftless  as 
well  as  the  thrifty.  And  this  leads  me  to  say  that 
we  can  never  lift  the  race  as  a  whole.  I  believe  in 
the  doctrine — the  survival  of  the  fittest.  I  believe  in 
individual  development.  Acquit  yourselves  like 
men.  Show  to  the  white  people  that  'a  man's  a 
man  for  a'  that.'  Give  the  white  man  a  wide  berth. 
Don't  push  yourself  on  him.  Let  him  see  that  you 
regard  yourself  as  his  equal,  and  in  moving  among 
them  do  so  without  fear,  favor  or  affection.  If  you 
are  unable  to  do  this,  your  inability  becomes  a  con- 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.     *  159 

vincing  argument  to  show  your  inferiority  and  de- 
pendence. 

''Let  us  cease  to  dissemble.  Let  us  get  together 
and  elevate  our  best  men  to  place  and  power  and 
influence. 

''We  will  not  stop  with  this  county's  contest. 
We  will  look  the  field  over  for  suitable  material  for 
Congress.  This  strikes  me  as  the  best  way  to  de- 
velop the  best  negro.  I  am  aware  that  there  is  a 
manifest  tendency  on  the  part  of  the  white  people  to 
consider  us  only  as  a  class — to  segregate  us,  making 
for  us  a  place  in  bulk.  My  plea  is  that  the  negro  be 
let  alone,  and  he  will  work  out  his  own  salvation. 
The  wbite  man,  however,  is  not  alone  responsible 
for  this  never-ending  color  question. 

"It  has  been  well  said  that  the"  organized  negro 
leads  to  the  organized  white  man.  It  will  be  well 
for  both  races  when  the  white  man  forgets  -the 
negro's  color;  but  he  cannot  forget  it  until  the 
negro  himself  forgets  it,  and  this  will  not  be  possi- 
ble until  the  enemy  both  from  without  and  within 
will  cease  to  handle  us  like  a  herd  of  cattle,  and  we 
cease  to  consent  to  such  an  odious  arrangement. 
The  negro  who  insists  upon  recognition  of  his  per- 
sonal merits  as  a  man  will  surely  secure  good  will 
and  equal  rights." 

"Mr.  Chairman:  (a  voice  from  a  Democratic  by- 
stander), will  you  permit  me  to  ask  the  speaker  a 
question?" 


160  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

The  Chairman :  'T  presume  the  speaker  "vvill 
yield." 

The  voice :  "Are  you  in  reahty  opposed  to  raising 
the  color  question?" 

The  speaker :  ''Yes ;  I  am  unalterably  opposed  to 
it." 

The  voice :  ^'So  you  seem  to  say,  and  yet  you  are 
industriously  advocating  the  election  of  negro  of- 
ficials solely  on  the  ground  of  color.  Your  talk  is 
a  strange  mixture  of  inconsistencies." 

Toussaint  continued,  ''We  have  a  mixed  ticket  of 
white  and  colored  men,  and  I  only  mean  to  urge 
their  election  on  the  ground  of  their  merit  and  gen- 
eral fitness.  It  is  the  old  cry  you  have  just  heard. 
Whenever  a  colored  man  is  being  run  for  office,  we 
are  charged  with  drawing  the  color  line,  and  yet  we 
are  expected  to  vote  for  white  men  for  office  with- 
out a  murmur,  whenever  they  bob  up.  Who  draws 
the  color  line  then? 

"The  negro  is  only  partially  free.  It  is  a  good 
adage  that  they  who  would  be  free  themselves  must 
strike  the  blow.  Many  of  you  are  unable  to  read 
and  consequently  cannot  understand  questions  of 
public  policy.  Let  me  give  you  an  unerring  touch- 
stone, which,  when  applied  to  every  matter  where 
your  vote  is  required  will  teach  you  which  road  lo 
take  for  your  safety.  Find  out  your  Democratic 
neighbor's  choice  of  men  and  measures,  and  then 
go  and  vote  directly  against  him. 


VEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  161 

"Now,  bear  in  mind  that  on  Tuesday  next  is  elec- 
tion day.  You  have  a  supreme  duty  to  perform. 
If  you  hope  for  good  government,  let  your  vote  con- 
form to  your  wish.  The  coming  fall  will  witness 
a  struggle  for  party  supremacy  in  the  councils  of 
the  nation.  If  you  will  but  do  your  whole  duty 
Tuesday — go  to  the  polls  and  vote  the  entire  Re- 
publican ticket — you  will  thereby  help  smooth  the 
road  for  a  great  victory  in  the  presidential  struggle. 
Democrats  are  getting  disgusted  with  their  party, 
and  are  flocking  to  the  Republican  party — thrusting 
aside  the  black  voter.  Stand  your  ground,  for  your 
political  salvation  is  in  this  party." 


162         NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  MESSAGE  FROM   AFRICA. 

Nearly  a  year  had  passed  since  Toussaint  first 
beheld  the  object  of  his  love.  And  now  he  seemed 
no  nearer  the  goal  than  then.  There  had  been  but 
little  correspondence  between  them  during  the 
period  of  their  acquaintance.  Only  a  short  while 
ago  they  had  parted;  she  seemingly  yielding  to  his 
entreaties.  But  she  looked  down  and  at  her  feet  there 
lay  a  shadow^  which  was  deepening  across  the  sea. 
He,  proud  and  self-reliant,  heard  her  voice,  and  was 
filled  with  expectancy. 

Merna's  return  proved  indeed  a  sad  one,  for  there 
she  met  her  first  great  sorrow  in  the  death  of  her 
mother,  which  occurred  a  few  days  after  she  had 
reached  Boston.  Now  there  was  no  one  left  upon 
w^hom  she  could  lean  for  sympathy  and  guidance, 
save  her  uncle.  She  wanted  to  get  out  of  the 
city,  away  from  the  scenes  of  its  sadness  and  tur- 
moil, away  from  its  loneliness  and  hopelessi:iess. 
And  she  felt  too  that  she  could  not  longer  re- 
main unemployed.     The   desultory   service  of  as- 


'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  163 

suaging  grief,  comforting  the  distressed,  minister- 
ing in  sympathy  and  substance  to  the  poor  and 
needy,  was  henceforth  to  be  reinforced  by  some 
gainful  occupation. 

It  was  a  season  of  great  depression  in  business. 
What  employment  could  willing  hands  find  in  Bos- 
ton? True,  Merna  was  well  educated  and  accom- 
plished, having  received  the  best  instruction  that 
Boston  could  offer.  She,  however,  lacked  fitness 
for  any  especial  pursuit;  and  even  though  she 
might  gain  a  place  for  which  her  training  and 
tastes  were  adapted,  would  she  not  then  be  in  the 
way  of  some  worthy  applicant  who  needed  this 
work  as  a  means  of  support  for  herself.  This 
thought  wrought  upon  her  tender  sympathy.  'T 
would  not,  if  I  could,  take  bread  from  others — 
those  who  may  need  it.  I  should  like  to  go  South,'* 
she  thought.  "There  workers  are  needed,  and  T 
can  afford  to  work  for  a  pittance."  She  at- 
tempted to  persuade  "dear  Uncle  Ralph"  to  give  up 

business  in  Boston  and  settle  in  the  town  of  H . 

He  shook  his  head  gravely  enough  at  this  timid 
suggestion.  He  finally  told  Merna  that  he  and 
her  mother  had  many  years  ago  resolved  between 
themselves  never  again  to  return  to  the  South; 
and  the  fact  that  her  mother  was  no  more,  served 
as  a  fresh  reminder  to  keep  his  promise. 

Ralph  Attaway  was  not  slow  to  see  that  there 
must  be  a  change  of  scene  for  Merna,  and  that  at 


164  V EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

once,  or  else  her  brooding  might  take  on  a  more 
serious  turn.  And  thus  he  proposed  for  them- 
selves a  trip  to  the  ''Dark  Continent." 

"Let  us  go  over  to  Africa  and  hunt  up  the  little 
Republic,"  he  laughingly  remarked. 

Merna  expressed  great  joy  at  the  prospect  of 
visiting  the  land  of  her  pride,  and  concerning  which 
she  knew  so  little. 

"Do  you  really  mean  it.  Uncle  Ralph?" 

'^Yes,  w^e  will  go  just  as  soon  as  I  can  arrange 
my  affairs." 

At  first  thought  it  puzzled  Ralph  to  know  whether 
to  suspend  business  at  his  old  fashioned  stand,  or 
to  entrust  its  management  and  reputation  to  new 
hands.  He  decided,  however,  not  to  hazard  all,  but 
to  close  up  his  shop  for  a  season. 

It  was  ten  days  later  w^hen  Ralph  Attaway  and 
niece  set  out  for  New  York,  going  thence  to  Mon- 
rovia via  Liverpool. 

>JC  3j%  ?j*  5|*  ?|C  >fC  ^C  3)C 

Toussaint  had  received  but  a  single  letter  from 
Merna  during  her  sojourn  in  Africa,  and  that  one 
was  severely  disappointing,  in  that  there  was  not 
the  least  reference  made  to  show  the  drift  of  her 
feeling  for  him. 

He  read  the  letter  again  and  again,  hoping  each 
time  to  find  some  peg  whereon  to  hang  his  hope. 
In  one  place  she  wrote :  "You  are  young  and  aspir- 
ing; if  you  were  here  with  me  we  could,  hand  iu 


If  EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  165 

hand,  look  up  a  more  enlarged  field  of  usefulness 
for  your  endeavors.  I  believe  that  is  what  you  have 
told  me  you  wanted.  Yes,  here  you  will  find  a  great 
field  teeming  with  precious  souls.  What  man  or 
woman  of  color  is  there  who  would  not  count  him- 
self or  herself  blessed  to  be  in  such  a 
goodly  land  where  they  could  labor  for  hu- 
manity—I had  almost  said  for  their  own 
race.  That,  however,  seems  narrow  and  self- 
ish." And  again  she  says:  ^'I  suppose  Aunt 
Margaret  has  told  you  all  about  my  sorrow.  That 
will  explain  my  presence  here.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could 
remain  here  always.  In  America  we  can  hear  such 
a  little  of  this  country.  Beautiful  landscape— gor- 
geous sunsets— richest  soil!  Among  these  gentle 
folks  I  find  peace,  virtue  and  sobriety.  The  natives 
are  honest  and  true.  I  send  you  a  ring  made  by  a 
native.  Is  it  not  beautiful  and  artistic?  I  should 
like  to  live  here  and  work  among  these  people,  but 
Uncle  Ralph  doesn't  like  a  warm  climate.  Besides, 
he  is  all  the  time  talking  about  his  business.  The 
dear  good  soul  is  getting  old,  and  I  must  remain 
with  him. 

"Before  I  reached  this  land  I  could  not  reconcile 
the  words,  'All  things  work  together  for  good  to 
them  that  love  God.'  It  seemed  a  hard  saying.  I 
wonder  if  I  really  comprehend  it  now?  It  is  a 
wondrous  thing,  and  yet  as  I  pen  these  lines  the 
tears  will  start — I  cannot  keep  them  back.     There, 


166  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

Uncle  Ralph  is  laughing  at  me — dear  old  soul — 
that's  his  way.  I'll  go  to  him  and  kiss  him.  Yes, 
God  has  a  purpose  in  affliction.  It  is  his  way  to 
bring  us  heavenward.  If  I  thought  all  that  has 
happened  was  merely  chance,  I  could  not  bear  it; 
the  load  would  crush  me.  I  know,  however,  it  is 
a  providence — His  word  teaches  me  so." 

Over  and  over  Toussaint  repeated  to  himself,  *'I 
wish  that  you  were  here  with  me" — "hand  in  hand." 
This  was  all  that  he  saw  in  her  epistle  deserving 
his  notice.  "She  thinks  well  of  me,"  he  mused.  "Her 
piety,  though,  is  almost  pitiable.  Merna  is  so  emo- 
tional. She  was  bad  enough  here,  and  I  suppose 
that  in  the  presence  of  those  African  dolts  she  can- 
not restrain  herself." 

Toussaint  gazed  fondly  at  the  ring  which  Merna 
had  sent  him,  and  then  remarked  in  an  audible 
voice,  "Well,  she  has  been  sweet  enough  to  send 
me  a  ring.  Now,  I  have  it.  Now,  I  have  it.  My 
way  is  clear.  I  will  give  her  a  ring,  too.  She  will 
not  refuse  it,  I  know.  Merna  is  not  one  of  your 
sentimental  creatures  anyway.  She's  business-like 
in  everything.  When  she  comes  home  my  prompt 
offer  shall  be  a  ring  to  signify  our  betrothment." 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  167 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE  BLACK  REPUBLIC. 


Merna  Attaway  lived  amid  a  quiet  but  charm- 
ing settlement,  just  a  little  way  out  from  the  tur- 
moil and  excitement  of  Boston  life.  There  was 
nothing  quaint  nor  picturesque  in  the  architecture 
of  the  home  of  Mr.  Attaway.  It  was  simply  a 
plain,  goodly-sized  two-story  frame  structure, 
gabled  roofed  with  broad  veranda  fronting  the 
street.  Yet  the  immaculate  whiteness  of  this 
house,  the  stable  and  enclosure,  and  the  pretty 
cropped  grass  la^vn,  with  spreading  trees  shading 
on  every  side  a  tennis  court,  together  wath  the 
twittering  of  innumerable  swallows  as  they  swarmed 
about  the  eaves  of  the  cottage,  afforded  the  curi- 
ous a  hint  as  to  the  manners  of  the  worthy  people 
residing  within. 

It  w^as  a  bright  balmy  spring  morning  when  the 

enterprising  reporter  of  the  "Boston  "  called 

to  interview  Ralph  Attaw^ay,  who  was  again  at  home 
after  his  African  tour.  Merna  was  on  hand  and 
greeted  the  news  gatherer  in  her  naive  sweetness. 


168  "NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

and  without  the  slightest  ceremony.  Then  she  has- 
tened away  for  Ralph,  pausing  to  say  that,  ''Uncle 
Ralph  is  never  here  so  late,  but  since  his  voyage 
he  has  been  somewhat  indisposed." 

There  were  many  interesting  objects  in  view  to 
engage  the  attention  of  the  argus-eyed  reporter. 
On  every  hand  there  were  evidences  of  the  rare 
judgment  and  exquisite  refinement  of  the  young 
housekeeper.  The  nooks  and  crannies  were  filled 
with  curios  of  this  country  and  Africa;  besides, 
there  were  precious  souvenirs  distributed  here  and 
there  throughout  the  reception  room.  Presently 
Merna  returned  with  an  apology  from  "Uncle 
Ralph,"  w^ho  felt  too  tired  to  see  any  one. 

"I  should  be  willing  to  tell  you  something  of  my 
impressions,  and  what  I  saw  in  Liberia,  that  is  if 
you  have  a  mind  to  hear  it,"  said  Merna  with  diffi- 
dence. 

This  was  the  first  intimation  the  reporter  had 
received  of  Merna's  sojourn  in  Africa  along  wuth 
her  uncle,  and  he,  of  course,  agreed  with  alacrity 
to  have  her  relate  her  experiences.  In  answer  to 
his  question  she  replied : 

"No,  sir,  I  was  not  anxious  to  get  back  home. 
When  I  was  in  Africa  I  felt  that  I  wanted  to  re- 
main forever ;  but  uncle  was  not  willing  to  live  there 
and  I  could  not  think  of  leaving  him  alone  in  his 
old  age.  Quite  contrary  to  my  expectation,  I  found 
the    climate    temperate    and    healthy,  especially  at 


'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  169 

Monrovia,  where  I  made  my  stay.  Many  residents 
of  that  city  with  whom  I  talked,  told  me  that  it  was 
decidedly  healthy  thirty  or  forty  miles  back  from 
the  coast,  and  it  is  there  that  you  will  find  the  soil 
fertile  and  deep. 

"I  know  that  you  have  heard  much  concerning 
the  African  fever.  You  see  that  I  have  escaped  it 
(and  she  laughed).  Why,  African  fever,  so  Dr. 
Blyden  says,  is  nothing  more  than  malaria,  such  as 
is  found  in  the  swamps  of  the  Carolinas — the  lagoon 
region — where  fevers  are  hatched.  He  further  as- 
sured me  that  African  fevers  are  not  easily  taken. 

'*Oh,  yes,  the  little  republic  seems  to  be  progress- 
ing, especially  when  you  take  into  consideration  the 
circumstances  under  which  it  was  established.  You 
must  remember  that  slaves  in  escaping  from  this 
country  went  to  Liberia  with  a  twofold  purpose — 
in  search  of  liberty,  also  to  help  Christianize  their 
distant  relatives.  This  colonization  work  began,  I 
think,  in  1 817.  It  was  thirty-seven  years  later 
when  the  colonists  ventured  (having  previously  ob- 
tained the  consent  of  the  American  Colonization  So- 
ciety)— to  declare  themselves  an  independent  na- 
tion, modeled  after  our  own  government. 

"There  are  in  Liberia  at  least  twenty  important 
towns,  among  them  Monrovia,  its  principal  sea 
port  and  seat  of  government.  There  are  mayors, 
aldermen,  public  libraries,  churches,  schools,  col- 
leges, professors  and  teachers,  lawyers  and  physi- 


170  "NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

cians,  merchants,  warehouses,  custom  houses,  light- 
houses, soldiers,  militia,  police,  and  in  general  all 
the  essentials  of  a  stable  government. 

"It  seems  a  wonderfully  productive  country. 
Everything  that  can  be  grown  in  a  civilized  land 
will  grow  there.  Garden  truck  grows  in  Liberia 
with  surprising  rapidity, — corn,  wheat  and  other 
grain.  Tobacco  and  cotton  will  grow  as  rapidly 
there  as  in  our  Southern  States  where  they  are  in- 
digenous ;  and  coffee,  indigo  and  the  sugar  cane  are 
the  spontaneous  products  of  the  soil,  and  may  be 
cultivated  at  pleasure.  There  is  no  winter,  as  you 
know,  in  Liberia.  There  the  hills  are  covered  with 
perpetual  verdure.  Picture,  if  you  can,  a  stretch 
of  beautiful  flowers  extending  about  forty  miles. 

"The  natives,  often  without  tools  or  skill,  and 
with  little  labor  raise  more  grain  and  vegetables  than 
they  can  either  consume  or  sell.  Cattle,  swine, 
goats,  sheep,  fowls  and  ducks  thrive  without  feed- 
ing, requiring  no  other  care  than  to  keep  them  fromi 
straying. 

"Well,  I  can  remember  only  a  few  of  the  Liber- 
ian  products  which  are  exported.  Cocoa,  coffee, 
cotton,  indigo,  ivory,  gold,  tortoise  shells,  hides, 
iron,  copper,  rubber  and  palm  oil  are  some  of  them. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  really  think  it  would  be  a  suitable 
place — indeed,  the  proper  place  of  residence  for  the 
Afro-American.  In  the  first  place  the  standard  of 
morals  is  high  there,  for  the  piety  of  the  first  set- 


VEITEER  BOND  NOR  FREE,  171 

tiers  has  been  transmitted  to  the  descendants.  Me- 
chanics of  well-nigh  every  trade  are  carrying  on 
gainful  occupations,  and  every  child  receives  appro- 
priate schooling. 

*'I  am  very  happy  to  say  that  there  is  no  race 
problem  in  Liberia.  There  you-  will  find  neither 
mob  rule  nor  lynch  law.  Liberia  is  progressive, 
and  its  rulers  are  black.  I  believe,  however,  that 
greater  prosperity  would  come  to  the  little  Republic 
if  the  Constitution  should  confer  citizenship  on 
white  people  along  with  those  of  African  descent. 
Of  course,  in  the  early  days  of  the  Republic,  it  was 
doubtless  a  wise  provision  to  have  restricted  suf- 
frage to  persons  of  color,  or  else  the  blacks  would 
soon  have  been  driven  from  place  and  power.  I 
think  the  danger  line  is  now  passed.  Money  is 
needed,  and  the  white  people  have  it.  Wi:h  capital 
the  country  could  not  only  develop  what  she  has, 
but  could  reach  out  to  the  rich  lands  of  the  interior. 

"Yes,  sir,  the  country  I  speak  of  has  great  re- 
sources, and  the  American  colored  man,  I  repeat, 
can  be  utilized  in  the  work  of  colonizing  and  in 
Christianizing  it.  He  ought  to  be  a  prime  factor 
in  that  work.  I  share  the  views  of  prominent  men 
in  Liberia,  who  have  experimented  with  my  people 
there. 

"No,  sir,  I  do  not  believe  in  a  gigantic  coloniza- 
tion scheme.  The  time  is  not  ripe  for  it.  I  believe, 
however,  that  our  government  should  lend  its  foster- 


172  V EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

ing  influence  towards  aiding  in  the  development  of 
the  territory,  which  embraces  more  than  50,000 
square  miles. 

"Assuredly,  I  believe  in  Africa  for  Afro-Ameri- 
cans and  their  descendants,  until  the  latest  genera- 
tion. There  are  already  in  that  country  the  Eng- 
lish, the  French  and  the  German,  but  the  climate  is 
too  torrid  for  them.  I  am  not  ashamed  of  my  peo- 
ple. I  am  proud  to  be  an  humble  member  of  a  race 
that  claims  such  celebrities  as  Geoffrey  I'lslet,  corre- 
spondent of  the  French  Academy  of  Sciences;  An- 
thony William  Amo,  and  Benjamin  Banneker,  as- 
tronomers ;  and  Alexander  Dumas,  Napoleon's  Gen- 
eral of  Division  and  called  by  him  'Horatius  Codes 
of  the  Tyre.'  There  is  the  son  and  grandson  of  the 
famous  general,  novelist  and  dramatist,  respectively, 
and  there  is  Dr.  James  McClure,  who  carried  away 
the  first  prize  from  500  Alumni  of  the  University  of 
Glasgow;  and  Prof.  Edward  W.  Blyden,  another 
eminent  scholar." 

"You  seem  to  believe  in  the  ultimate  triumph  of 
your  people  in  the  distant  Republic,  through  the 
agency  of  Anglo-Saxon  greatness,"  remarked  the 
reporter  as  he  arose  to  take  his  leave. 

"I  scarcely  know  how  to  answer  your  question. 
I  suppose  I  should  say  both  yes  and  no  to  it.  Cer- 
tainly, I  believe  in  the  triumph  of  my  race — this  be- 
cause I  believe  in  the  ultimate  triumph  of  right  over 
wrong.     I    do    not,    however,    believe    that    mere 


tlEITEER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  173 

Anglo-Saxon  greatness  can  improve  Liberia.  But 
I  may  not  discern  greatness  after  the  manner  of 
some  persons.  We  read  that  Csesar  was  great,  and 
his  legions  triumphed  over  every  foe.  Napoleon 
was  great,  and  his  selfish,  ambition  filled  Europe 
with  terror.  Give  me,  rather,  the  greatness  as  ex- 
emplified in  the  life  of  John  the  Baptist.  Though 
poor  in  this  world's  goods,  yet  he  was  great  in 
service.  He  labored  not  for  himself,  but  for  others. 
He  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister. 
Time  was  when  your  Anglo-Saxon  progenitor,  low 
in  the  scale  of  civilization,  had  a  brutish  ambition  to 
destroy  the  Christian  religion.  But  the  Norman 
conqueror  came,  and  with  him  the  refinements  of 
high  civilization,  preserving  Christianity  and  point- 
ing the  way  to  intellectual  and  industrial  prosperity. 


IH  NEITHER  BOND  NOB  FREE. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

JACK  DEMPSEY — THEREBY  HANGS  A  TALE. 

Another  summer  had  come,  the  second  one  for 
Merna  at  H .  She  was  now  resolved  to  de- 
vote more  time  to  the  service  of  others  than  ever 
before.  Surely  this  was  no  easy  task  since  she  had 
ever  appeared  mindful  of  her  obligations  to  society, 
and  this  too  at  a  time  when  she  had  superior  strength 
for  its  requirements.  Somehow  Merna  felt  that  in 
her  weakness  she  was  yet  stronger  for  the  bitter 
experiences  she  had  but  lately  sustained.  When 
alone,  however,  there  were  times  when  she  would 
give  vent  to  the  pent-up  grief  occasioned  by  the  loss 
of  her  mother.  Nor  was  this  strange,  for  after  all 
she  was  but  human.  She  relied  upon  her  father 
for  pity  and  strength  to  bear  her  sore  affliction. 
Merna  religiously  believed  that  her  sorrow  was  the 
soul's  discipline,  and  she  cherished  the  precious 
thought  that  some  day  she  would  be  reunited  to  her 
parents,  and  hence  her  ambition  to  yield  a  fuller 


VEITEEtt  BOND  NOR  FREE.  175 

service  for  God — bringing  her  life  into  more  per- 
fect accord  with  his  teachings. 

It  may  not  be  easy  to  believe  that  a  young  and 
attractive  girl  though  possessing  lofty  ideals  should 
interest  herself  in  the  race  problem  to  the  extent  of 
spending  her  time  during  the  heated  spell  in  teach- 
ing nearly  forty  children,  who,  for  the  greater  part, 
were  in  destitute  circumstances.  This  was  purely 
a  labor  of  love  and  charity,  for  it  was  given  abso- 
lutely without  compensation.  There  was  no  diffi- 
culty in  the  way  of  obtaining  pupils,  especially  since 
there  was  no  charge  for  their  instruction.  The 
parents  of  the  little  ones  were  only  too  glad  to  be 
rid  of  them  for  a  few  hours,  inasmuch  as  their 
presence  at  home  was  a  hindrance  to  those  of 
their  superiors  who  would  pursue  outdoor  work 
or  pleasure.  There  were  difficulties  to  be  met  with 
in  the  way  of  securing  a  place  where  Merna  could 
teach.  There  were  suitable  rooms  in  the  basement  of 
the  First  Baptist  Church,  in  which  Sabbath-school 
w^as  held,  but  how  was  Merna  to  secure  these,  since 
she  was  known  to  only  a  few  persons  in  that  com- 
munity, and  little  interest  was  manifested  on  the 
part  of  those  wrio  had  children  to  school.  There 
is  at  all  times  an  abundance  of  enthusiasm  in  church 
work,  but  it  usually  stops  short  of  the  school  house. 

Edward  Strother,  who  w^as  at  home  on  a  visit 
from  Washington,  endeared  himself  to  Merna  by  his 
indefatigable  efforts  in  smoothing  the  way  for  her 


176         NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

work.  He  it  was  who  prevailed  on  the  Rev.  Bur- 
leigh and  the  trustees  of  his  church  to  allow  Miss 
Attaway  to  have  her  school  at  that  place.  There 
was  some  hesitation  about  the  matter,  but  after  two 
weeks  of  delay  Strother  reported  to  Merna  that  he 
had  gained  the  consent  of  the  church  officers  for  her 
work  there. 

The  announcement  of  the  opening  of  Merna's 
summer  school  was  made  from  the  pulpit  of  the 
First  Baptist  Church  alone,  for  there  was  in  the 
privilege  conferred,  a  condition  precedent  that  only 
the  children  whose  parents  were  communicants  in 
that  church  should  be  allowed  to  attend. 

The  first  school  day  brought  together  about  sixty 
pupils — twice  as  many  as  could  be  accommodated  in 
the  room  set  apart  for  the  purpose.  Again  Stro- 
ther's  services  were  needed  and. were  successful  in 
securing  an  additional  room,  and  he  also  volun- 
teered to  assist  Merna  in  her  self-imposed  task. 

Her  school  had  been  in  operation  just  one  w^eek, 
and  she  was  grappling  with  the  practical  realities 
of  her  work. 

It  was  recess  hour,  and  Strother  had  come  into 
Merna's  room  to  compare  notes  on  their  little  ex- 
periences, as  they  were  both  novices  in  this  new 
role. 

''My,  my,  how  the  tots  do  try  one's  patience," 
said   Strother.     ''Some  of   them   are  queer.      The     ' 
things  you  wish  them  not  to  do,  they  are  eager  to 


VEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  177 

do ;  and  the  things  you  don't  want  them  to  do,  they 
try  ever  so  hard  to  do.  Anyway,  I  guess  I'm  an 
awkward  hand  at  the  business." 

"As  you  know,  I  have  but  fairly  begun  my  work, 
and  yet  I  am  having  my  trials.  Some  people  think 
that  in  order  to  make  children  obey  one  must  be 
harsh  and  strict  with  them.  The  parents  alone  are 
responsible  for  this  lack  of  obedience.  The  poor 
little  creatures  are  often  left  to  care  for  themselves. 
I  love  the  children,  and  I  have  them  know  it.  I  rule 
by  kindness,  and  I  find  that  they  are  quick  to  recog- 
nize and  appreciate  it.  One  little  fellow  the  first 
morning,  looked  up  mischievously  in  my  face  and 
asked  my  name.  I  told  him ;  then  he  said,  "Smerna, 
you  ain't  no  sho'  'nuf  teacher,  is  yo'?"  The  little 
ones  are  used  to  being  scolded  and  kicked  at  their 
homes.  Kind  words  are  much  better  than  harsh 
ones.  I  feel  that  the  little  folks  are  growing  to 
love  me." 

While  Merna  was  talking  the  bell  began  to  ring, 
and  the  children  were  returning  to  their  seats. 

One  little  girl  marched  in  blowing  a  huge  tin 
horn.  Merna  advanced,  and  met  her  in  the  aisle, 
and  asked  for  the  instrument;  thereupon  the  little 
waif  said : 

"I'll  hit  you." 

"Hit  me;  here  I  am,"  she  replied. 

The  girl  slapped  her  twice.  Merna  put  her  arm 
around  the  child  and  asked :  "Do  you  feel  any  bet- 


178  'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

ter  now?  You  hit  me,  and  I  am  going  to  kiss 
you,"  and  she  did  so. 

"I'll  tell  my  mammy  on  yo'  and  she'll  beat  yo' 
too,  ef  yo'  tech  me." 

"Would  she,  little  girl,"  the  teacher  replied,  as 
she  placed  her  hand  caressingly  on  the  unkempt 
hair  of  the  pickaninny. 

^'You'  tek  yo'  han'  off  er  my  hade,"  muttered 
the  child  as  she  shrugged  and  twitched  herself. 

"Take  your  seat.  I  will  talk  with  you  after 
school,"  said  Merna.  The  child  moved  off  sullenly 
to  her  place,  muttering  and  pouting  all  the  way. 
"Mammy  sez  yo'  shan't  keep  me  in  arter  skule,  ef 
yo'  do  she's  comin'  arter  yo'." 

As  the  tartar  delivered  herself  of  this  speech  there 
was  a  loud  knock  at  the  big  basement  door.  The 
child  exclaimed:  "Dere!  she's  comin' — she's  comin' 
now."  Before  Merna  could  reach  the  door,  a  visitor 
unceremoniously  opened  it.  It  proved  not  to  be  the 
tot's  mother,  but  there  were  in  evidence  two 
strangers  in  the  school  room. 

"Miss,  I  come  here  to  see  Brother  Burleigh.  His 
wife  told  me  she  reckoned  I  would  find  him  at  the 
church  in  his  study.     Don't  he  study  here?" 

"Oh,  yes,  the  pastor's  study  is  in  the  church  just 
above.  You  enter  from  the  other  end.  I  will  send 
a  boy  around  with  you.  "Come,  Bernice,"  she 
called  out,  "take  this  lady  up  to  your  papa's  study." 
The  woman,  decked  out  in  fantastic  rannent,  and 


TfElTHER  BOND  NOR  FRE^.  179 

lier  companion,  a  miserably  clad  man,  with  be- 
grimed face  and  hands  and  a  countenance  which 
was  a  cross  between  a  saint  and  a  sinner,  soon  re- 
turned to  tell  Merna  that  the  parson  was  not  in  his 
study. 

"Tell  Brother  Burleigh,"  said  the  woman,  with  a 
curtsey,  "that  me  and  my  brother  come  to  see  him — 
my  brother  what  went  away  in  war  times." 

"Will  you  give  me  your  name,  so  that  I  may 
tell  him  who  it  was  that  called?" 

"I  ha'  dun  clean  forgot  that,  Missis.  My  name 
is  Swepsy.  Brother  Burleigh  knows  me — and  this 
here  !s  John  Dempsey — they  call  him  Jack  for 
short." 

"And  your  name?"  inquired  Merna,  hoping  this 
time  to  get  the  whole  of  it. 

"Swepsy.  Just  tell  him  'twas  Swepsy  as  wants 
to  see  him — that's  all." 

"Do  you  live  in  this  place?" 

"I'm  in  the  country,  out  on  the  old  road — they 
call  it — as  you  come  in  from  Mil'red  Grove.  This 
here's  my  brother  what  comes  from  down  South." 

"We  are  now  in  the  South,"  remarked  Merna. 

"I  know  that,  but  where  he  comes  from  is  a  heap 
far'nhere!" 

"Well,  do  you  expect  to  wait  and  see  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh before  returning  to  your  home?" 

"Yes,  marm;  I  cert'n'y  must  see  my  preacher," 
remarked  she  with  decided  earnestness. 


180  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

''If  you  are  not  in  a  great  hurry,  I  will  go  along 
with  you  and  your  brother,  as  I  must  pass  the 
minister's  residence  on  my  way  home." 

Swepsy  said  they  would  wait.  "Come,  then,  take 
seats  and  rest  yourselves." 

The  hour  for  the  dismissal  of  school  had  arrived, 
and  soon  the  children  were  homeward  bound.  The 
little  vixen  was  detained  only  a  few  moments  to  re- 
ceive a  gentle  reproof. 

Then  Swepsy  and  Jack  Dempsey  accompanied  by 
Merna  and  Strother  set  out  in  the  direction  of  the 
minister's  home. 

Swepsy,  a  familiar  figure  in  his  church,  was  al- 
ready known  to  Strother,  who  was  made  acquainted 
with  Jack  through  the  sister. 

^'Mr.  Ed,  I  am  real  glad  to  see  you.  You  been 
out  to  the  North,  ain't  you?" 

*'Yes,  I've  been  to  Washington." 

"Sho'  'nuff,  that's  where  Brother  Burleigh's 
young  one  is,  I  reckon;  at  least,  I  heard  that  she 
was  out  there.  That  's  my  bizness  here  now — to 
tell  him  that  Brother  Jack  saw  that  feller  who  used 
to  go  with  her." 

"Where!"  "Where!"  came  in  chorus  from  Merna 
and  Strother. 

"Jack,"  said  Swepsy,  "why  don't  you  talk?  Got 
any  tongue?  Tell  these  folks  where  you  saw  that 
man." 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  181 

Jack  eyed  Merna  and  Strother  as  suspiciously  as 
though  he  beHeved  they  were  calculating  the  con- 
sequences of  some  evil  deed.  He  then  slowly 
cleared  his  throat  as  if  making  ready  for  a  trying 
ordeal. 

"I  cum  (ahem,  ahem),  from  Pasertauk :  dat's 
down  in  Alabama-ma  (ahem)  I  see  a  man  dar  at 
de  train  jes  uz  I  cum'd  to  tek  de  kars." 

"How  did  you  know  that  it  was  Charles  Van 
Courtney?" 

''He  tole  me  so — now  hole  on,  dat  ain't  de  name 
he  gub  me,  but  he  'lowed  dat  he  wuz  from  dis 
State.  I  dun  forgit  de  name  he  gub  me;  but  it 
warn't  any  sich  name  ez  yo'  call.  We  nebber 
would  ha'  knowed  it  was  him,  but  sez  he  to  me, 
'what  you  doin'  har.'  Dis  was  at  de  train.  I 
sez  I  cum  har  to  git  erway  from  the  ole  plantation 
where  I  stays.  'Well,  whar  you  gwine,  enyway?' 
sez  he.  'Where  I  gwine?  I  been  in  de  country,  all 
dese  y'ars,'  sez  I, — 'eber  sence  de  wah — on  Mars 
John's  plantation.'     I  tole  him  I  had  a  sister  in  ole 

state,  and  ef  she  wa'n't  dead  I'd  like  to  see  her. 

He  axed  me  whar'bouts  in  de  State,  an'  I  tole  him 
dat  I  didn'  reck'n  I  know'd  whar  she  wuz,  but  a 
teachar  corned  out  my  way  who  wuz  a  preacher  too, 
and  he  axed  me  an'  some  mo'  han's — at  de  church 
one  Sund'y — 'lowed  ef  we  knowed  Swepsy  who  use 
to  'long  to  Mars  John  and  was  sole  away  befo'  de 
wah." 


182  "NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

"This  was  one  of  the  students,"  interrupted 
Swepsy,  "from  our  college  here.  When  I  used  to 
cook  there  I'd  tell  them  that  when  they  go  out  to 
teach  to  inquire  aroun'  and  see  who  know'd 
Swepsy." 

"Yas,"  continued  Jack,  who  was  evidently  warm- 
ing up  to  his  subject,  and  gaining  confidence  in  his 
descriptive  powers,  "when  I  hea'd  de  name  Swepsy 
— sez  I,  'I  know'd  har;  dat's  my  sistar.  Don't  we 
look  erlike?'  He  sez  'yas,  I  b'lieve  yo'  does.'  He 
tells  me  whar  she  was  staying  an'  I  sed  nuthin'  mo', 
but  I  keep  it  to  mysef,  an'  so  de  nex'  mornin'  I 
goes  down  to  de  kars  where  she  come  in,  an'  de 
c'nductor  tuk  me  'board  an'  made  me  wuk  my  way, 
and  so  he  let  me  cum  all  de  way  in  de  caboos  kar." 

Jack  paused  a  moment  as  if  to  get  a  fresh  hold 
on  his  discourse.  "I  don't  remember  de  name  of 
de  sharp  nose  man,  but  he  look  like  a  white  man — 
with  a  sort  o'  bluish  eyes." 

^'Perhaps  he  was  a  white  man,"  said  Strother. 

"No,  sah,  white  folks  down  dar  don't  talk  to  no 
niggers,   less'n  dey's  workin'   for  'um.*** 

"Dis  whitish  lookin'  man  yo'  all  talkin'  'bout, 
tole  me  which  way  to  cum  on  de  kars,  and  sed  he 
reck'n'd  he  know'd  my  sister  too,  fur  an  ole  woman 
tole  his  fortchin  wid  a  name  like  dat.  Den  I 
know'd  'twas  my  Swepsy,  for  she  alius  could  tell 
things  uz  would  happin'  kase  she  was  born  wid  a 
call." 


'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  183 

Merna  with  difficulty  suppressed  a  laugh. 

*'And  I  think  you  told  me  that  the  man  said  he'd 
been  to  my  house,"  remarked  Swepsy. 

''He  sed  he  wuz  roun'  one  summer  an'  got  tuk 
in  out  de  rain  by  my  sistar,  an'  so  when  I  cum  har 
and  fine  sistar,  I  tole  her  all  erbout  hu  cum  I  fined 
her.  Den  she  tell  me  dat's  de  same  willum  what 
run  erway  wid  her  preacher's  chile.  But  I  could 
fotch  him  har." 

"How  would  you  manage  to  get  him  here?" 

"Vd  wuk  on  him ;  I'd  wuk  on  him  wid  roots,  why 
sho!" 

"What  does  he  mean?"  inquired  Merna  of 
Strother. 

"I  means  jes'  what  I  sez.  Some  'High  John' 
would  bring  him  quick'rn  lightin'." 

^'High  John!"  exclaimed  Merna,  and  she  and 
Strother  laughed  outright. 

"Hab  you  never  hea'd  of  dat  befo'?"  questioned 
Jack.  "Here's  some  o'  dem,"  said  he,  untying  an 
old  cloth  which  he  took  from  his  coat  pocket.  "Dis 
piece  is  white  man's  conq'rer;  dis  har  am  High 
John — High  John  King  Conq'rer,  and  dis  har  is 
Adam  an'  Eve.  Now  I'll  splain  um  to  yo'.  De  fus' 
is  fo'  de  white  folks,  an'  de  udder  I  gub  to  de  young 
folks — you  knows — de  courtin'  folks  an'  sich  like." 
Jack  grinned,  and  I  suppose  it  was  with  the  satis- 
faction that  comes  to  him  who,  for  the  first  time, 
imparts  to  an  eager  listener  some  great  truth. 


184         V EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

Merna  did  not  so  much  as  smile  this  time.  She 
saddened  at  the  exhibition  of  such  idolatrous  super- 
stition. 

Swepsy,  like  Jack,  felt  triumphant. 

"So  we  are  going,"  she  said,  addressing  Merna, 
"to  find  Brother  Burleigh,  and  lay  the  matter  be- 
fore him." 

"Is  it  not  terrible  to  blight  a  home,  destroy  a 
young  life  and  wreck  one's  self  as  Van  Courtney 
has  done?"  observed  Merna. 

"Yes,  and  he  deserves  the  full  penalty  of  the  law 
if  he  should  be  caught,"  was  Strother's  reply. 

The  parting  of  the  ways  for  Merna  and  the 
strangers  was  reached, — Strother  accompanying 
Merna  to  her  aunt's  home,  Swepsy  and  her  brother 
going  directly  to  the  house  of  Rev.  Burleigh. 

The  pilgrims  found  the  minister  at  home  engaged 
in  writing  a  letter  to  Ethel,  urging  that  wayward 

young  woman  to  return  to  H .    Into  the  eager 

ears  of  Mr.  Burleigh,  Jack  Dempsey  rehearsed  the 
tale  of  his  discovery  of  Van  Courtney  and  the  in- 
cidents connected  therewith. 

The  news  of  the  miscreant's  whereabouts  had  for 
Mr.  Burleigh  its  terrible  awakenings — it  brought 
fresh  to  his  mind  a  stranded  child,  his  own,  a  grief 
stricken  mother,  also  a  keen  sense  of  shame  at  his 
own  persistent  and  criminal  folly. 

In  his  self-abasement  he  cried  out  "I  am  a  miser- 
able wretch!" 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  185 

"Wretch !"  repeated  Jack,  rolling  the  word  under 
his  tongue  as  a  sweet  morsel,  "dat  udder  feller's  de 
wratch.  Jes'  hoi'  on  (and  he  began  to  spread  out 
the  herbs  before  the  minister),  I  can  fotch  dat  man 
back  har.  You  tak  dis  High  John,  put  it  in  water 
and  carry  it  'roun'  wid  yo',  and  I  'lay  he'll  be  har 
moughty  soon." 

Mr.  Burleigh  took  the  proffered  roots,  for  he  be- 
lieved it  would  gratify  Swepsy  as  well  as  her 
brother. 

When  the  preacher's  company  had  left,  he  hur- 
ried to  the  telegraph  office  as  fast  as  his  feet  could 
carry  him,  where  he  dispatched  the  Washington 
Detective  Agency,  giving  information  as  to  the 
whereabouts  of  Charles  Van  Courtney,  a  fugitive 
from  justice. 


186         VEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 


CHAPTER  XXL  / 

RACE  PROBLEMS. 

"Whom  the  gods  would  destroy  they  first  make 
mad/' 

It  was  about  the  same  time  that  Strother  and 
Merna  were  strolHng  leisurely  along  in  the  direc- 
tion of  her  aunt's  home,  that  Toussaint  was  wend- 
ing his  way  thither  in  quest  of  Merna.  As  he 
drew  near  the  house  he  saw  the  girl  and  her  com- 
panion coming,  engaged  apparently  in  earnest  con- 
versation. This  sight  was  anything  but  inspiring 
to  Toussaint.  It  was  not  that  he  then,  or  had  ever 
before  suspected  any  rival  for  the  affection  of 
Merna,  certainly  not  from  his  honorable  friend 
Strother.  But  he  madly  reckoned  every  disap- 
pointment that  came  to  him,  where  she  was  con- 
cerned, a  rebuff,  and  this  soured  his  nature  and 
blinded  his  reason.  He  was  completely  crestfallen 
— crushed.  Thrice  of  late  he  had  called  to  see 
Merna,  to  welcome  her  return  to  the  old  town,  and 
especially  to  press  his  suit,  and  thrice  he  had  found 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  187 

her  deeply  engaged  in  things  quite  foreign  to  his 
design.  What  was  he  to  do  or  say  in  the  presence 
of  grown-up  folks  who  were  asking  alms,  or  re- 
hearsing tales  of  distress  or  airy  nothings ;  or  in  the 
presence  of  boys  and  girls  trooping  at  her  heels  to 
catch  the  melody  of  her  voice,  which  was  to  them 
like  unto  the  music  of  the  old  Pied  Piper  of  Hame- 
lin  town. 

Toussaint  hesitated  when  he  got  within  sight  of 
Mema's  home.  "I  will  not  go  in  now,"  he  med- 
itated, "I  will  call  later  when  Strother  is  gone." 

Poor  fellow!  he  was  at  that  moment  an  object  of 
pity.  He  had  forgotten  all  his  resolves.  In  his 
mad  impetuous  chase,  he  saw  but  one  ideal — Merna. 
His  spiritual  horizon  was  indeed  small,  and  his 
vision  was  necessarily  confined  to  its  limitations. 

Politics  were  bringing  both  money  and  distinc- 
tion to  Toussaint,  and  at  the  same  time  changing 
what  had  been  a  sober  life  into  a  dissolute  one. 

Among  the  evils  of  our  present  day  politics  the 
drink  habit  is  most  conspicuous.  Among  the 
politicians  it  is  usual  to  open  and  close  conferences 
of  two  or  more  persons  with  the  convivial  drink,  a 
dram  being  relied  upon  as  the  persuasive  and  con- 
vincing eloquence  to  drive  home  an  argument  to  a 
recalcitrant  voter.  This  is  in  nowise  intended  as  a 
reflection  on  the  doubtful  voter,"  for  he  is  importu- 
nate; whiskey  will  only  make  him  violent;  he  is  bent 
on  seeing  the  candidate,  or  his  manager  who  has 


188         NEITHER  BOND  NOB  FREE. 

funds  to  disburse,  all  alone.  There  was  no  escape  for 
Toussaint;  he  too  became  addicted  to  the  drink 
habit.  The  ruling  passion  is  strong,  and  thus  on 
the  afternoon  in  question  he  repaired  to  a  saloon 
where  he  w^ould  attempt  a  truce  to  his  feelings  and 
assuage  his  w^ounded  pride. 

Almost  two  hours  had  passed  when  he  retraced 
his  steps  to  the  home  of  Merna.  Toussaint  felt  that 
his  courage  was  now  up  to  the  sticking  point.  On 
reaching  the  place  he  cautiously  lifted  the  latch  of 
the  wicket  gate  which  opened  on  the  little  flower 
garden,  and  when  he  had  gained  the  door  he  paused 
to  ascertain  wdiether  there  w^as  any  visitor  in  the 
house.  Just  then  he  was  sure  he  heard  Strother 
repeat  his  name.  It  w^as  a  dastardly  act,  but  Tous- 
saint's  brain  w^as  fired  by  the  accursed  demon  of 
drink,  and  his  desperate  ambition.  He  pressed  his 
head  against  the  door,  and  again  the  adage  was 
verified  that  "eavesdroppers  never  hear  anything 
good  of  themselves."  Toussaint  distinctly  heard 
Strother  say:  'T  am  afraid  that  politics  are  any- 
thing but  helpful  to  Toussaint."  We  shall  never 
know^  what  was  said  by  Merna  to  call  forth  Stro- 
ther's  remark.  He  rang  the  bell  violently,  and 
Merna  responded  to  the  call. 

''How  are  you,  Merna?"  inquired  Toussaint, 
pressing  her  hand  in  his  own,  and  at  the  same  time 
arresting  her  movement  as  she  attempted  to  lead  the 
way  to  the  sitting  rooni. 


VEITSER  BOTsD  VOR  FREE.  189 

"Come  in."  t,    v. 

"No,  I  prefer  not  to  see  you  in  there  where  he  is, 

let  us  take  a  walk,"  he  said.  ,t,:„v;no- 

"You  surprise  me.     What  can  you  be  thmkmg 

about,  Mr  Ripley?     Your  friend,  Mr.  Strother,  is 

here,  and  why  not  come  in  and  be  sociable. 

"Ed  Strother  is  no  friend  of  mine,  neither  am  1 

to  be  regarded  as  his  friend,"  he  said  with  vehe- 

""  Mema  looked  up  in  Toussaint's  face,  startled  by 
his  speech  and  strange  manner. 

"Release  my  hand,  please.  I  must  have  you  ex- 
cuse me  if  you  cannot  remain,"  she  said. 

He  stared  at  Merna  for  one  instant,  as  if  to  rebuke 
her,  then  grasping  both  hands  in  his  own  said,  1 
cannot  excuse  you  to  go  to  him.  He  has  been  with 
you  already  for  hours,  while  I  have  scarcely  re- 
ceived the  passing  tribute  of  a  smile. 

"I  shall  remain  only  with  the  understanding  that 
you  will  excuse  yourself  from  Strother  presently, 
and  go  with  me  to  the  evening  session  of  the  con- 

ference."  ,    . 

"I  cannot  grant  your  request  for  the  reason  that 

Mr.   Strother  has  already  asked  my  company  for 

that  occasion."  

"Well,  anyway,  Merna,  I  love  you  and  you  know 
it  I  love  you  passionately-desperately.  You 
trifle  with  my  affection,-!  can  never  see  you  alone, 
-you  are  indifferent  to  me,"  he  remarked  excitedly. 


190  2i EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

''You  surprise  me.     Your  manner  fills  me  with 
consternation.     I    must   go,"    she   said. 
"Then  good-night,  Merna." 
''Good-night,  Mr.  Ripley.'' 

''On  the  dear  old  place  the  shadozvs  fall, 
A  haze  of  summer  twilight  covers  all, 
The  waves  lap  gently  'gainst  the  river  brim, 
The  breezes  murmur  low  their  vesper  hyimt, 

'7  stand  alone  and  view  the  well-known  scene, 
My  thoughts  are  with  the  sad  'It  might  have  been* 
Again  my  heart  is  throbbing  zvith  the  pain 
Of  parting,  and  the  longing  that  is  vain/' 

Merna  tried  her  utmost  to  conceal  her  agitation 
from  Strother,  whose  eyes  seemed  to  follow  her  own 
from  the  moment  she  returned  to  his  presence,  after 
Toussaint  had  left  her. 

The  Biennial  Conferences  of  the  Southern  Indus- 
trial Institute  were  year  after  year  growing  in  popu- 
lar favor.  These  w^ere  gatherings  of  the  students 
and  friends  of  the  Institute,  to  further  the  moral, 
material  and  industrial  prosperity  of  the  colored 
people  of  the  South.  At  these  gatherings  the  farm- 
ers, teachers  and  preachers  met  to  discuss  race 
problems,  making  an  earnest  search  after  the  truth 
for  the  betterment  of  mankind.  The  conference,  the 
evening  in  question,  had  under  consideration  Mob 


'SIEITEER  BOND  NOR  FREE,  191 

Law  and  the  Remedy.  Besides  Merna  and  Stro- 
ther,  there  were  present,  Toussaint,  sitting  well  in 
the  rear  of  the  hall,  also  the  Rev.  Mr.  Burleigh,  who 
wanted  to  talk  over  his  trials  with  Merna,  and  not 
having  found  her  at  home,  had  come  to  the  Con- 
ference, expecting  there  to  see  her. 

The  discussion  of  the  race  question  was  quite 
animated,  and  Mr.  Burleigh,  not  given  to  worrying 
over  much,  soon  forgot  Jack  Dempsey  and  his 
story.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  reading  of  the 
paper  on  Mob  Law,  Mr.  Burleigh  was  on  his  feet. 

"I  wish  to  say  that  I  find  but  little  in  the  paper 
you  have  just  heard  to  commend  it  to  my  favor; 
there  is,  however,  very  much  in  it  to  condemn. 
Take,  for  instance,  the  assertion,  this  sweeping  and 
thoughtless  assertion  that,  'The  remedy  for  lynch- 
ing is  simply  to  cease  the  outrages  and  the  lynchings 
will  stop;  continue  the  outrages  and  the  lynchings 
will  always  follow.'  Surely  this  is  a  specious  propo- 
sition. As  if  in  all  sober  earnestness  there  would 
be  no  lynching  if  there  was  no  wTongdoer.  I  wish 
to  ask  my  patient  hearers  what  think  they  of  the 
recent  lynching  of  a  young  colored  man,  a  graduate 
of  this  Institution — lynched  by  some  Tennesseeans 
for  no  other  cause  than  that  a  co-operative  store 
conducted  bv  the  victim  and  two  other  men  of  his 
race  was  a  successful  enterprise?  The  other  part- 
ners fared  better — one  was  whipped,  the  other 
driven  from  the  city  where  they  had  their  business. 


19^  'SEITEER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

It  was  only  a  few  months  ago  that  in  a  village  in 
Arkansas  or  Texas,  I  forget  which,  a  colored  man 
charged  with  the  assassination  of  a  farmer  was 
lynched.  The  farmer,  it  appears,  was  not  generally 
liked  by  colored  residents  of  his  section,  and  one, 
Tompkins,  a  negro,  for  saying  that  he  ought  to  have 
been  killed,  was  whipped,  then  released,  and  sub- 
sequently captured  and  lynched.  Another  negro 
met  the  same  fate.  Other  negroes,  in  order  to  avoid 
the  vengeance  of  the  whites,  fled  to  the  swamps. 
Three  bodies  were  fished  out  of  the  Red  River,  and 
a  Texas  justice  of  the  peace  rendered  the  astounding 
verdict  that  the  men  came  to  their  death  from  nat- 
ural causes,  or  were  frozen  to  death.  It  was  a  plain 
violation  of  both  the  laws  of  God  and  man.  Even 
though  the  brute  lynched  is  guilty,  yet  is  not  the 
crime  of  the  lyncher  equally  as  great?  Thursday 
morning  last  in  Georgia,  an  armed  mob  put  to  death 
six  negroes  who  were  suspected,  mark  you!  only 
suspected — of  arson.  The  prisoners  at  the  time 
were  in  the  custody  of  the  law.  In  a  short  while, 
had  their  lives  been  spared,  they  w^ould  have  been 
confronted  by  a  white  judge  and  jury,  and  if  the 
evidence  should  establish  their  guilt  the  victims 
would  have  been  doomed  to  swift  and  certain  pun- 
ishment. Was  not  the  mob,  bent  on  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  suspects,  infinitely  worse  than  the  in- 
cendiaries? for  the  former  were  cold  blooded  mur- 
derers.    You  can  see  that  it  is  not  alone  rape  and 


VEITEER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  193 

attempted  rape  for  which  the  negro  is  lynched.  He 
is  sometimes  lynched  as  mere  fiendish  pastime  for 
the  insatiable  prejudice  of  the  white  barbarians. 

"In  this  same  State  of  Georgia  a  negro  band  of 
alleged  robbers,  five  or  six  in  number,  were  killed 
by  the  mob.  The  leader  of  the  gang  was  tortured 
to  death.  He  was  taken  to  a  tree  and  bound  to  it 
with  chains.  Think  of  it,  while  the  wretch  was 
alive  parts  of  the  muscles  of  his  arms  and  legs  were 
chipped  off.  The  flesh  was  cut  from  around  his 
ribs,  and  the  points  of  the  knives  were  run  into  the 
loose  folds  of  his  flesh.  The  pieces  of  flesh  were 
then  distributed  among  two  or  three  hundred  men 
in  the  mob  who  wrapped  the  bits  m  paper  while  the 
mutilated,  bleeding  and  quivering  form  was  set  on 
fire. 

"Are  these  crimes  against  civilization  to  go  on 
forever  ?  No !  A  thousand  times,  no !  The  blood 
of  these  victims  of  mob  law  cries  out  from  the 
ground." 

Two  other  speakers  briefly  addressed  the  Con- 
ference, when  Strother,  yielding  to  the  persuasion 
of  Merna,  consented  to  make  a  few  remarks. 

He  began :  "I  shudder  at  the  horrors  of  which 
we  read  and  hear  so  much — that  come  to  my  people. 
There  must  be  some  way  out  of  our  present  troubles, 
— and  to  the  remedy  we  must  address  ourselves. 
The  negro  is  in  the  South  and  of  the  South,  and 
under  God  here  I  believe  he  will  remain  forever. 


194  2JEITHER  BOND  XOR  FREE. 

Every  fair-minded  man  can  see  that  the  colored  man 
is  improving-  in  every  way,  and  yet  in  some  direc- 
tions this  progress  is  so  painfully  slow.  The  negro, 
however,  is  a  better  churchgoer  than  a  Christian. 
He  needs  to  be  a  living  Christian  rather  than  a  talka- 
tive churchgoer.  We  should  like  to  become  a  great 
people.  Well,  mere  insistence  on  our  political 
rights,  and  heedless  opposition  to  the  white  man  will 
not  make  us  great  nor  enable  us  to  gain  the  sym- 
pathy and  good  will  of  the  people  among  whom  we 
must  work  out  our   destiny. 

"There  is  little  organized  social  and  business  life 
among  us.  You  know  that  united  we  stand,  divided 
we  must  fall.  It  may  be  a  hard  truth,  but  it  re- 
mains to  be  said  that  every  disgraceful  act  of  a 
negro  tends  to  disgrace  his  race.  You  cannot  off- 
set the  crime  of  aT)lack  fiend  by  showing  up  a  white 
fiend.  It  will  not  cure  matters  to  point  the  finger 
of  scorn  at  the  five  per  cent,  of  white  barbarians, 
holding  them  up  to  public  contempt.  If  we  do 
nothing  more  than  this  they  will  continue  to  slaugh- 
ter the  five  per  cent,  of  worthless  negro  brutes.  We 
must  realize  now,  if  never  before,  that  the  v.hite  man 
is  not  on  trial  before  the  bar  of  public  opinion.  The 
white  man  has  wrought  out  his  civilization  on  the 
anvil  of  intelligent  industry  and  Christian  manhood, 
and  a  splendid  civilization  it  is.  Ours  is  to  make  a 
civilization,  or  else  we  must  perish  in  the  fierce  light 
of  the  white  man's  civilization.     Bear  in  mind,  I 


^EITEER  BOND  NOR  FREE,  195 

say,  that  a  white  man's  crime  is  after  all  only  the 
crime  of  the  perpetrator ;  a  black  man's  crime  is  the 
crime  of  his  race.  So  the  world  decides  it,  and 
from  this  decision  there  is  no  appeal. 

*'But  for  politics  and  the  Fifteenth  Amendment 
to  the  Federal  Constitution,  there  would,  perhaps, 
have  been  no  Ku  Klux  and  White  Caps.  But  for 
the  lack  of  moral  training  and  industrial  habits 
there  had  been  few  lynchings  of  our  people.  Deny 
it  as  we  may,  it  is  nevertheless  patent  to  every  sensi- 
ble man  that  the  negro  is  not  yet  fit  to  assume  the 
powers  and  responsibilities  of  government,  and  it 
is  idle  talk  to  say  as  much.  We  are  now  fitting  our- 
selves to  take  our  place  in  the  scheme  of  modern 
civilization. 

"To  be  somebody  we  must  be  a  producer,  a  money 
maker  and  a  decent  citizen.  To  be  nobody  you 
have  only  to  be  a  consumer  and  a  spendthrift  and 
^stand  in  the  jams  of  the  fences  and  see  the  proces- 
sion go  by.' 

"There  are  things  requiring  our  attention  that 
are  much  more  important  than  carping  about  civil 
and  social  distinctions — about  hotel  and  amusement 
accommodations.  Let  us  do  as  Oscar  Richards 
tells  us — let  us  follow  him — he  will  pilot  us  through 
the  reefs  and  over  the  breakers. 

"To-day  we  need  skilled  farmers,  laborers  and 
artisans,  trained  nurses  and  domestics. 

"These  times  demand  our  serious  thoughts  and 


/ 

196         NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE, 

earnest  activities.  When  our  political  ardor  shall 
have  cooled,  when  our  zeal  for  place  shall  give  way 
to  useful  living,  the  outlook  for  negro  prosperity 
will  be  encouraging. 

''I  do  not,  of  course,  advocate  the  repeal  of  the 
Fifteenth  Amendment.  I  do  not  believe  in  a  sys- 
tem of  government  which  operates  to  disfranchise 
a  people  on  account  of  race,  color  or  previous  condi- 
tion of  servitude, — a  system  which  is  a  manifest 
evasion  of  the  Federal  Constitution.  I  do  not  be- 
lieve in  a  property  qualification  as  a  pre-requisite 
to  voting.  A  man's  value  as  a  citizen  should  not 
be  made  dependent  upon  the  amount  of  property  he 
owns.  If  we  can  have  an  educational  qualification, 
so  adjusted  as  to  keep  out  the  illiterate  whites  as 
well  as  blacks,  it  will  meet  my  approval.  Massa- 
chusetts measures  up  to  the  requirements  of  the 
times. 

"It  is  the  negro's  condition,  and  not  his  color,  that 
is  keeping  him  down.  The  negro  needs  a  peculiar 
kind  of  education,  not  because  of  his  color,  but  be- 
cause of  his  condition.  And  the  needs  of  the  poor 
colored  man  are  the  needs  of  the  poor  white  man — 
industrial  training.  Look  with  me  over  this  town 
and  see  our  college  and  high  school  graduates  loung- 
ing about  and  waiting  for  dreams  to  ripen  into 
gold,  or  standing  around  with  their  hands  in  their 
pockets,  while  the  hoe  is  rusting  in  the  field,  and 
the  foreign  laborer  is  filling  the  place  we  ought  to 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  19T 

occupy.  We  know  how  to  talk,  but  alas,  we  do 
not  know  how  to  work.  If  a  poor  man  spends  a 
majority  of  the  best  years  of  his  Hfe  in  the  school 
he  has  remaining  less  energy  and  less  time  to  put 
into  practice  \^  hat  he  has  learned. 

"This  country  of  ours  is  striding  along  to  new 
activities  and  new  glories.     We  must  not  be  idlers 
in  the  way.     New  industries  are  constantly  being 
developed  here  in  the    South.      These    industries 
must  furnish  more  work  for  the  negro.     Our  popu- 
lation is  increasing,  and  to  meet  this  requires  in- 
creased farm  products.     Every    mill    and    factory 
must  have  labor.     So,  if  we  are  trained  to  work  as 
skilful  operatives  we  will  get  work,  and  suppose 
that  we  will  then  save  our  earnings,  we  will  soon 
have  mills  and  factories  of  our  own,  employing  our 
own  boys  and  girls,  our  men  and  women.     If  we 
will  not  prepare  to  m.eet  and  overcome  competition 
by  a  thorough  industrial  education,  if  we  will  not 
get  hold  of  the  land  and  retain  it,  our  problems 
will  prove  too  heavy  for  us  to  bear,  and  by  and  by 
they  will  crush  us  or  our  posterity  out  of  existence." 
When  Strother  had  finished  congratulations  were 
showered  on  him  on  all  sides,  but  the  greeting  from 
none  was  heartier  than  that  accorded  him  by  Merna. 
Toussaint  was  eager  for  the  fray,  and  he  arose 
immediately  to  make  reply  to  Strother.     He  had 
not  followed  Strother  closely  in  his  argument,  for 
he  neither  cared  nor  was  he  in  condition  for  the 


198  "NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

discussion  of  the  evening.  To  say  that  he  was  de- 
pressed in  spirit  and  wounded  in  pride  would  but 
feebly  express  the  plight  of  our  hero. 

Toussaint  now^  regarded  Strother  as  a  rival  with 
all  that  the  word  would  signify.  Strother  had  come 
between  him  and  his  dearest  ambition.  He  would 
speak — this  proud,  imperious  man — and  make  the 
assemblage  forget  the  presence  and  words  of  Stro- 
ther. Merna  should  hear  him,  and  the  people  judg- 
ing aright  would  award  the  palm  to  him. 

"The  negro  race,"  said  Toussaint,  ''cannot  pros- 
per so  long  as  cant  and  hypocrisy,  parading  under 
the  mask  of  reform,  is  given  a  patient  hearing.  The 
astounding  argument  has  been  made  in  y.)ur  hear- 
ing that  the  negro  in  order  to  succeed  with  the  white 
people  must  surrender  his  manhood,  trample  his  bal- 
lot in  the  dust,  practice  self-effacement  until  he  can 
march  blindfolded  to  the  rear.  Let  me  say  that  I 
am  not  here  to  kindle  anew  fires  long  since  gone 
out,  fires  whose  lurid  glare  swept  destruction  to 
countless  homes  in  this  great  South.  I  prefer  to 
indulge  pleasing  recollections  and  fervent  gratitude. 
And  yet,  I  must  remind  you  that  'our  freedom'  as 
Frederick  Douglass  has  said,  came  to  us  not  from 
any  normal  condition  of  things !  It  came  at  the  cost 
of  blood  and  treasure.  The  ballot  is  the  fruit  of  a 
great  struggle,  and  accursed  be  the  hand  that  would 
nullify,  restrict  or  take  it  away.  We  are  living  in 
a  great  age,  in  the  midst  of  the  enlightenments  of 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  199 

a  splendid  civilization.  This  is  a  wonder  age,  and 
the  most  wonderful  thing  in  it  is.  how  an  Afro- 
American,  before  and  Afro-American  audience, 
could,  without  blushing  for  shame,  give  expression 
to  the  ridiculous  things  which  you  have  just  heard. 
I  have  no  patience  with  any  man  or  set  of  men  who 
want  to  place  the  negro  in  the  rear  of  white  people, 
— as  though  we  are  not  fit  to  assume  the  burdens 
and  responsibilities  of  government.  The  slavish 
fear  which  has  come  to  some  of  us  from  250  years 
of  bondage  is  well  nigh  passed  away.  But  it  is 
said  in  some  quarters  that  we  are  too  weak  to  en- 
force our  rights.  Let  us  then  begin  to  gather 
strength.  Somie  day  we  will  be  organized  and 
strong.  I  only  pray  that  when  that  day  arrives  we 
may  be  treated  fairly  and  accredited  all  our  rights. 
To-day  we  are  not  free,  for  no  man  is  free  who  can- 
not enjoy  a  free  man's  right.  The  negro  of  this 
country  is  by  the  laws  of  God  and  man  a  citizen  of 
this  country.  He  is  taxed  as  a  citizen  and  enrolled 
as  a  soldier  for  the  protection  of  state  and  nation, 
and  yet  he  is  hunted  down  like  a  deer,  while  the 
nation  looks  on  powerless  to  help,  and  indifferent  to 
his  fate. 

"The  mob  holds  full  sway  over  the  life  and 
liberty  of  the  negro  at  the  South.  The  Southern 
whites  say  that  the  negro  is  a  bad  citizen.  How 
does  it  happen  that  he  is  so  debased  and  despised 
now?     During  the  war,  when  the  armies  of  the 


200  2i EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

Confederacy  were  in  the  field,  ^Sambo'  was  left  at 
home  to  look  after  'Missis'  and  her  little  ones. 
There  was  then  heard  no  complaint  about  the  black 
brutes. 

"There  is  no  use  to  mince  words,  life  is  made 
miserable — intolerable — burdensome,  by  reason  of 
the  bitter  and  relentless  persecutions  which  meet  us 
at  every  turn  of  the  road.  Mr.  Strother  knows  it. 
I  will  not  temporize;  I  will  not  palliate  this  foul 
and  craven  sin — this  hell-begotten  prejudice. 

"Why,  it  was  only  a  little  while  ago  when  the 
speaker  who  has  just  addressed  you  was  refused 
admission  to  a  seat  at  a  table  in  a  little  dairy  lunch 
room  at  the  National  Capital.  I  have  the  state- 
ment from  the  lips  of  the  man  you  have  just  heard. 
The  keeper  of  this  place,  it  seems,  was  willing  to 
accommodate  one  Charles  Van  Courtney,  who  at 
present  is  a  fugitive  from  justice,  and  may  shortly 
occupy  a  felon's  cell,  but  he  was  not  willing  to 
accommodate  his  dark  hued  companion. 

"Travel  South,  if  you  please,  and  there  awaits 
you  the  Jim  Crow  car.  Go  to  the  city  by  the  sea  and 
there  is  the  ferry  boat  with  its  black  and  tan  cabins. 

"We  are  pariahs  and  lepers,  and  everywhere  we 
meet  the  white  man,  whether  in  church  or  state, 
whether  delving  in  the  mines  of  the  great  West,  or 
standing  in  the  shade  of  his  own  tree,  wringing  the 
sweat  from  his  brow,  We  are  told  to  move  on — 
wiiclean — unclean. 


'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  201 

"I  wish  to  enter  a  solemn  protest  to-night  against 
the  white  fiends  incarnate  in  human  form;  against 
the  black,  cringing,  fawning  sycophants;  against  a 
Republic  which  is  impotent  to  stay  the  hand  of  the 
oppressor.  If  the  nation's  black  defenders  cannot 
be  protected  at  home  as  well  as  abroad,  there  is 
then  for  us  no  hope  from  man.  We  must  look  alone 
to  Him  who  is  the  arbiter  of  our  fate,  and  in  whose 
hands  is  the  destiny  of  the  nation." 

'That  was  a  vigorous  speech,  but,  of  course,  I 
do  not  agree  with  much  that  Toussaint  has  said," 
remarked  Strother  to  Merna. 

"I  think  his  reference  to  you  should  have  been 
framed  in  more  courteous  language,"  she  replied, 
avoiding  Strother's  complimentary  remark. 

"Yes,"  was  the  laconic  response. 

Mr.  Burleigh  at  this  moment  approached  Stro- 
ther, and  soon  the  three  together  left  the  hall. 


202  VEITEER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

'■'what's  freedom   without  sumpin'   wid  it?" 

Charles  Van  Courtney,  the  fugitive,  had  been 
captured,  duly  arraigned,  tried  and  convicted  of  an 
infamous  crime,  and  sentenced  to  be  confined  in  the 
penitentiary  of  his  State  for  a  term  of  five  years. 
There  was  the  testimony  of  Clarissa,  her  father  and 
Strother,  which  was  quite  sufficient  to  establish  the 
guilt  of  the  accused  without  the  assistance  of 
Swepsy.  And  yet  this  woman  was  on  hand  and  testi- 
fied that  Van  Courtney  and  a  girl  who  gave  her 
name  as  Clarissa  were  at  her  home  the  summer 
before,  having  tarried  there  during  a  storm. 
It  was  there  that  they  had  spoken  of  marry- 
ing and  making  Washington  their  future  home. 
The  trial  was  short,  and  when  the  verdict  had 
been  announced,  Swepsy  hurried  off  to  find 
Rev.  Burleigh  and  Merna,  and  break  the 
news  to  them.  Merna  became  greatly  de- 
pressed in  spirit  when  she  learned  that  Van  Courtney 
had  been  adjudged  guilty  of  abduction.  She  re- 
marked to  the  preacher  with  much  feeling  that  she 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE,  203 

felt  partly  responsible  for  the  ills  that  had  come  to 
his  household  and  to  the  prisoner.  Merna  felt  that 
she  should  have  apprised  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Burleigh  of 
the  wayward  conduct  of  Van  Courtney  as  from 
time  to  time  she  had  learned  of  it  through  little 
Bernice.  This  she  regarded  as  her  sin  of  omission, 
which,  to  her  way  of  thinking,  was  quite  as  serious 
as  one  of  commission. 

Quite  restless  and  disturbed  in  mind  was  she 
when  Toussaint  called  to  see  her  on  the  day  follow- 
ing the  Van  Courtney  trial.  He  reckoned  that  her 
disturbed  feelings  were  due  to  her  sympathies 
aroused  by  the  severe  punishment  meted  out  to  Van 
Courtney.  And  thus  he  set  about  to  criticise  the 
course  pursued  by  Strother,  who,  he  asserted,  knew 
absolutely  nothing  about  the  merits  of  the  case,  but 
yet  the  State  had  convicted  the  prisoner  upon  his 
testimony. 

"Mr.  Ripley,  this  is  not  the  first  time  that  you 
have  spoken  to  me  of  Mr.  Strother,  in  a  cruel  and 
vindictive  spirit.  I  can  tolerate  it  no  longer.  He 
is  my  friend,  and  if  he  were  not,  I  should  condemn 
your  course.  I  do  not  wish  to  think  less  of  you  than 
I  now  do,  but  your  visits  of  late  are  calculated  to 
lessen,  rather  than  increase,  my  regard,  and  I  must 
therefore  beg  that  you  do  not  further  impose  your 
presence  on  me." 

Her  speech  was  calm  and  dignified,  but  there 
was  a  trace  of  sadness  in  it. 


204         NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

Toussaint  already  knew  IMerna  sufficiently  well 
to  take  her  at  her  word,  for  she  was  at  all  times 
plain  and  unassuming  both  in  speech  and  action. 

Yet  he  hastened  to  say :  "Yours  are  cruel  words. 
You  surely  cannot  mean  what  you  say.  I  have 
never  done  you  an  injustice — except  to  love  you 
fondly,  madly,  be  an  injustice.  I  have  tried  in 
every  way  possible  to  merit  and  w^in  your  love — and 
this  is  my  reward." 

He  paused,  with  head  hung  down,  hoping  there- 
by to  conceal  the  tears  as  they  gathered  in  his  eyes, 
but  there  was  no  response  from  Merna. 

"There  had  been  no  unpleasantness  between  us 
until  Strother  commenced  to  assist  you  in  your 
school,"  he  presently  remarked. 

"There  had  been  no  unpleasantness  between  us 
until  I  had  made  the  discovery  that  Mr.  Ripley  of 
this  summer  was  a  different  individual  from  Mr. 
Ripley  of  the  past  summer.  But  enough  of  this — 
I  have  nothing  further  to  say — I  wish  to  be  left 
alone  just  now." 

"Then  may  I  not  come  to  see  you  again — an- 
other day,"  he  pleaded. 

Instead  of  replying,  the  girl  walked  briskly  to 
the  adjoining  room,  where  she  found  her  aunt. 

"Aunt  Margaret,  I  must  ask  you  to  go  to  Mr. 
Ripley  and  say  to  him  that  he  must  excuse  me,  as 
I  have  gone  to  my  room  with  a  severe  headache." 

It  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  when  "Aunt  Mar- 


-NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  ^05 

garet"  had  delivered  her  message  to  Toussaint,  he 
decamped  most  unceremoniously.  Merna,  poor  girl^ 
sought  refuge  in  the  privacy  of  her  room,  where  her 
thoughts  of  the  final  meeting  with  Toussaint  w-ere  a 
fresh  discomfiture  for  a  weary  and  oppressed  soul. 

And  thus  we  see  that  he  had  not  only  in- 
jured his  cause  by  cherishing  an  enmity  for  Strother 
— a  man  who  had  never  done  him  the  least  harm — 
but  he  had  in  the  process  debased  himself. 

A  man  ought  always  and  under  all  circumstances 
to  be  generous  to  friend  and  foe,  free  from  evil 
speaking  and  evil  thinking,  thus  holding  his  lower 
nature  in  subjection  to  the  higher  one.  No  man  can 
be  either  good  or  great  until  he  learns  to  govern 
himself.  A  rash  impulsive  creature  like  Toussaint 
is  a  constant  menace  to  the  peace  of  society — one 
who  would  in  a  frenzy  slay  both  friend  and  foe. 
There  is  after  all  but  one  great  thing  in  the  world, 
and  that  is  love.  There  are  many  despicable  things 
in  the  world,  but  the  worst  is  hate. 

Let  us  return  to  Jack  Dempsey,  who,  through 
the  influence  of  Swepsy,  had  secured  employment 
with  Rev.  Burleigh  as  a  man  of  all  work  about  his 
home. 

Clarissa  after  the  trial  of  Van  Courtney  (against 
whom  she  was  loth  to  testify)  was  again  at  home 
with  her  parents.  They  endeavored  to  persuade  the 
girl  to  continue  with  them,  but  she  was  quite  fasci- 
nated with  the  glare  and  glitter  of  city  life, — so 


206  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

much  so  that  she  was  urging  every  one  who  would 
listen  to  her  to  ''come  to  Washington." 

Now  it  was  Jack's  turn  to  hear  of  the  wonderful 
city. 

"Dey  tell  me,"  said  Jack,  "dat  am  de  place  whar 
you  gits  de  pervisions  in  de  Cibil  Rights  Bill." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  understand  you.  Jack,"  said 
Clarissa. 

"Oh,  yas,  yo'  does.  Don't  yo'  recommenber  dat 
dere  wuz  a  bill  up  for  us  culled  folks — in  Wash- 
ington, which  wuz  to  gib  us  pervisions?  I  he'ed 
some  o'  de  white  folks  down  whar  I  cum  from  talkin' 
dey  'low'd  dat  it  wuz  given'  us  too  much — more'n 
we  oughter  'ave." 

''Oh,  now  I  think  I  understand  you.  You  are 
talking  about  the  law  Congress  passed  called  the 
Civil  Rights  Bill,"  she  replied. 

"Umph,  yas,  dat's  it." 

"Well,  that  paper  was  meant  to  give  us  the  right 
to  go  to  hotels,  theatres  and  the  like  and  to  ride  on 
the  boats  and  the  trains." 

"Well,  I  didn't  know  'twuz  a  paper;  I  thought  it 
wuz  sumpin  wid  eatens  in  it." 

"Oh,  no,"  she  laughed. 

"Well,  yo'  ken  laf  ef  yo'  choose  to,  'bout  .dat 
paper,  but  I  w^ants  to  tell  yo'  dat  Mars  Abe  Linkum 
dident  sarve  us  right  when  he  sign  dat  paper  which 
sot  our  race  free." 

"Why  not?"  inquired  Clarissa. 


If  EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  207 

"Kase,  what's  freedom  widout  sumpin'  wid  it?" 

"We  are  free.  We  can  go  and  come  when  we 
like." 

'7es'  so.  We's  too  free.  Sence  I  bin  har,  some- 
times I  ax  mysef  hucum  I  cum  har,  enyw^ay.  Den 
I  think  I'd  ruther  be  back  on  Mars  John's  plantation 
gettin'  plenty  to  eat  and  drink,  and  somewhar  to 
sleep,  dan  goin'  up  an'  down  de  worl'  wid  de  white 
folks  driven  us  from  pillar  to  pos'." 

"Then  why  did  you  leave  Mars  John  ?" 

"Why,  chile,  yo'  don't  know.  Down  whar  I  cum 
from  'tis  a  heap  wus  dan  'twuz  in  slav'ry  times.  I 
wuked  for  Mars  John  'fore  I  cum  to  dis  place.  I 
wuked  for  him  all  de  time  sence  de  war,  and  I 
never  git  nuffin  but  my  victuals  and  clothes.  You 
might  ez  well  say  dat,  for  although  we  waiz  tendin' 
crop  on  shares,  I  could  never  git  any  share;  but  at 
at  the  end  of  every  year  I  cumed  out  in  debt  to  him. 
I  tell  yo'  a  heep  sees  but  few  knows." 

"Well,  that's  because  you  didn't  understand  busi- 
ness. Suppose  you  could  have  kept  your  own  ac- 
counts, or  had  a  wife  to  do  so,  things  would  have 
been  different." 

Jack  gazed  wistfully  at  Clarissa,  and  then  said: 
"I  don't  know  how  'tis  har,  but  whar  I  cum  from  a 
nigger  aint  no  better'n  a  mule — not  so  good  as  a 
mule — for  a  mule  don'  want  nothin'  but  a  belly  full 
c'  grub — and  as  he  lib  a  long  time  he  kin  enjoy  dat 
food  a  long  time  and  die  happy." 


208  'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

"How  long  does  a  mule  live,  atiyway?" 

"I've  seen  a  heap  o'  mist'ry  things,  but  I  never 
see  a  dead  mule.  I  don'  know  for  sho'  wedder 
dey  lib  one  hundred  yars  or  one  hundred  and  fifty 
yars,  but  ebry  time  I  see  him  he's  still  har." 

"But  tell  me,  Jack,  do  you  like  these  parts?" 

"A  heap  better'n  whar  I  cum  from.  But  dis 
ain't  'zactly  whar  I  wants  to  git.  I  wants  to  go  to 
Washington,  whar  yo'  come  from." 

"Then  you  struck  it.  Washington  is  a  going 
city.  I  know  you'd  like  it  there.  I  don't  expect 
to  stay  around  here  myself  much  longer;  this  town's 
too  slow  for  me." 

"I  wants  to  git  erway  from  har,  kase  I  wants  to 
make  some  money.  Is  dere  much  work  out  dere 
for  a  critter  like  me?" 

"Oh,  yes.  You  could  get  along  without  any 
trouble  working  around." 

"Dat's  what  I  mean,  knockin'  'bout  wuk.  Dat 
would  suit  me,  kase  as  de  ole  sayin'  goes — 'None's 
dere  but  dem  dat  gits  dere.'  " 

"When  I  go  back  to  Washington  I  will  look 
around,  and  if  I  see  anything  that  you  can  do,  I 
will  let  you  hear  from  me.  I  see  papa's  coming, 
Jack,  and  you  want  to  keep  busv." 

The  home  of  Mr.  Burleigh  had  been  despoiled 
of  his  daughter  through  the  perfidious  conduct  of 
Charles  Van  Courtney,  and  henceforth  througli 
shame  and  remorse  Clarissa  was  glad  to  be  away 


VEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  ^Q^ 

from  the  roof  that  had  sheltered  her  from  her  in- 
fancy to  the  day  she  had  met  that  foul  and  craven 
man.  Probably  the  strongest  defense  which  a 
young  man  or  woman  can  have  is  the  influence  of 
a  good  home.  This  will  help  to  save  them  from  the 
snare  of  the  tempter,  and  the  raging  tempest  with- 
out. But  it  matters  little  how  splendid  the  habita- 
tion, if  its  memory  savors  of  some  poignant  grief 
or  folly  for  which  we  are  to  blame,  then  it  is  not  a 
home,  it  is  merely  a  house,  scarcely  better  than  a 
prison. 

Alas,  the  lot  of  Clarissa  was  far  more  pitiable 
than  that  of  Jack  Dempsey,  for  he  could  feel  no 
pangs  for  the  loss  of  that  he  had  never  possessed. 

Clarissa,  like  many  other  poor  young  women  of 
her  race,  was  contending  for  bread  against  tre- 
mendous odds — and  was  gaining  only  a  pittance — 
but,  perhaps,  it  was  an  equivalent  for  the  service 
she  was  rendering.  And  yet  no  person  who  saw 
her  in  her  costly  apparel  and  finery  could  believe 
that  she  was  just  a  plain  every-day  servant  girl. 

Every  penny  Clarissa  could  earn  was  expended 
either  for  dress  or  some  senseless  frivolity.  No 
calculation  nor  provision  was  made  for  the  day  of 
adversity,  the  day  of  sickness,  or  old  age. 

Our  young  women  of  to-day  serving  as  domestics 
do  not  stand  on  the  same  footing  as  the  servants  of 
ante-bellum  days,  for  they  are  not,  generally  speak- 


210         NEITHER  BOND  NOB  FREE. 

ing,  as  capable,  as  trustworthy,  nor  as  continuing 
as  the  old  family  servant. 

The  present-day  colored  servant  is  too  often 
wasteful  as  a  cook,  sloven  as  a  housemaid,  and  in- 
attentive as  a  nurse,  and  there  is  withal  much  gross 
ignorance  and  unreliability.  This  servant  question 
is  a  burning  one  both  for  employer  and  employe, 
for  the  servant  seeks  employment  without  any 
special  fitness  for  the  work,  and  her  chief  ambition, 
it  seems,  is  to  realize  enough  from  her  employment 
to  obtain  some  article  of  dress,  or  to  gratify  some 
whim  or  caprice. 

A  sensible  man  has  aptly  said  that  there  is  as 
much  dignity  in  tilling  a  field  as  in  writing  a  poem. 
I  wish  to  qualify  this  statement  by  saying  that  much 
depends  upon  how  the  two  tasks  are  performed. 
There  is  decidedly  more  dignity  in  tilling  a  field, 
provided  it  be  done  with  more  thoroughness  than  is 
exemplified  in  the  writing  of  a  poem. 

The  difficulty  with  the  servant  question  lies  in  the 
Ignorance  and  shiftlessness  of  the  average  servant. 
There  is  a  growing  demand — and  there  has  always 
been  a  demand — for  well  trained  and  intelligent 
servants.  Those  who  have  had  successful  instruc- 
tion in  domestic  science  can  easily  secure  profitable 
employment  South  as  well  as  North,  and  retain  the 
same  if  they  are  honest  and  industrious. 

There  should  be  housekeeping  schools  for  colored 
girls  in  every  community  throughout  the  South.   In 


tJ EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  ^U 

Germany  these  schools  are  an  established  success. 
To  begin  with,  let  the  little  girls  be  taught  to  mend, 
wash,  starch,  iron  the  clothes  they  wear,  learn  to 
sweep  and  keep  in  order  the  room  they  occupy,  make 
up  the  beds  on  which  they  sleep,  cook  and  prepare 
the  food  they  eat,  grow  vegetables  and  fruits  and 
cultivate  flowers.  These  things  will  not  depress  the 
child,  and  they  can  go  hand  in  hand  with  polite  ac- 
complishments. 

There  are  some  great  negro  problems,  but  the 
greatest,  I  should  say,  is  the  home  problem.  It  is 
the  home  which  is  the  fountain  head  of  society. 
The  steam,  you  know,  cannot  rise  higher  than  its 
source.  No  government  is  better  than  the  aggre- 
gate home  life  of  its  people.  If  you  would  read 
Vv'ith  unerring  eye  the  progress  of  a  people,  go  into 
their  homes.  If  the  children  and  their  elders  will 
not  remain  at  home  but  prefer  to  be  away,  the  dan- 
ger is  that  they  have  wandered  to  the  haunts  of 
revelry  or  the  dens  of  infamy.  To  keep  them  at 
home,  let  woman,  the  queen  of  the  home,  reign  as  a 
ministering  angel,  putting  her  religion  in  her  bread 
and  broom, — 

^'A  guardian  angel  over  our  lives  presiding, 
Doubling  our  pleasures  and  our  cares  dividing" 


212         NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


FOUR    YEARS    LATER 


Four  years  had  passed  since  the  trial  of  Van 
Courtney,  and  now  he  was  returning  to  the  home 
of  his  parents,  a  pardoned  man,  but  only  a  wreck 
of  his  former  self,  for  he  was  suffering  from  an  in- 
curable and  fatal  malady.  A  few  weeks  or  months 
at  most  and  the  struggle  would  be  over. 

Strother  had  taken  the  pains  to  write  to  Van 
Courtney,  soon  after  he  reached  his  home,  sending 
him  some  wholesome  reading  matter,  and  making 
a  generous  offer  in  which  Merna  united  to  assist 
him  in  any  way  they  could  to  regain  his  health. 

Van  Courtney  wrote  in  reply:  "I  am,  of  course, 
grateful  to  you  for  your  kind  offer  to  assist  me,  but 
there  is  little  that  you  could  do  for  me  now.  The 
truth  is,  I  am  in  need  of  nothing  which  this  world 
has  to  give.  I  want  no  sacrifice  made  for  me,  be- 
cause I  merit  none.  I  never  made  a  sacrifice  for 
anybody  or  to  any  purpose  in  all  my  life;  but  some- 
how I  trust  my  worthless  life  may  serve  others  as 
an  example — a  danger  signal,  to  keep  off  the  track. 


-NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  213 

I  hear  that  you  are  getting  along  nicely.  I  am  glad 
to  know  it.  I  have  read  in  one  of  the  papers  which 
you  were  good  enough  to  send  me  that  your  alumi- 
num cannon  had  been  patented,  and  that  you  had 
recently  realized  a  handsome  sum  on  your  brain 
investment.  And  this  too  reminds  me  how  I 
laughed  when  I  heard  of  your  contrivance,  the  sum- 
mer we  met  at  the  lawn  party.  I  am  glad  to  hear 
that  you  are  now  a  successful  farmer.  But  most 
of  all  I  am  proud  to  know  that  you  have  wooed  and 
won  such  a  sweet  good  woman  as  Merna  Attaway. 
You  are  indeed  happily  mated.  Now  I  ought  to 
have  started  out  with  my  congratulations  instead  of 
my  laments.  But  you  will  overlook  everything,  as 
I  am  scarcely  myself  these  days." 

In  his  modest  way  Strother  had  told  Mr.  Robbins, 
his  Washington  employer,  of  his  invention,  and 
the  latter  advised  and  helped  him  to  secure  a  pa- 
tent and  afterwards  a  market  for  the  article.  It  was 
not  very  long  before  the  young  inventor  had  dis- 
posed of  all  his  right,  title  and  interest  in  his  can- 
non to  some  speculator  for  a  large  amount  of 
money ; — the  purchaser  believing  that  the  invention 
would  be  availed  of  by  the  government,  in  the  war 
already  begun,  between  this  country  and  the  King- 
dom of  Spain. 

And  now  all  of  Strother's  premeditated  plans 
were  changed,  and  thus  he  did  not  return  to  Wash- 
ington and  the  study  of  the  law,  but  remained  at 


214         NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

home  and  attended  the  Southern  Industrial  Insti- 
tute, pursuing  the  higher  branches,  and  learning  the 
science  of   farming. 

During  these  years  Ralph  Attaway  had  passed 
away,  devising  all  his  property,  and  without  reser- 
vation, to  his  favorite  niece. 

That  little  summer  school  of  bygone  years  had 
proven  helpful  in  more  than  one  way,  for  the  com- 
panionship of  labor  on  the  part  of  Merna  and 
Strother,  had  wrought  a  mutual  sympathy  and  a 
community  of  interests  which  budded  and  blos- 
somed into  a  happy  consummation,  namely,  a  mar- 
riage, which  occurred  in  the  merry  month  of  June, 
just  a  year  ago.  Strother  had  brought  his  bride 
South,  and  they  had  settled  down,  hard  by  the  good 
old  town  of  H . 

Clarissa  did  not  tarry  at  home  long,  and  she  was 
soon  followed  by  Jack  Dempsey.  A  few  months 
thereafter,  and  they  became  man  and  wife.  Clarissa 
then  set  to  work  to  fashion  Jack  after  her  own 
sweet  will,  developing  the  field  hand  into  a  city 
sport,  in  order  that  the  pair — in  the  humble  circles 
in  which  they  moved,  could  '^get  by,"  as  the  street 
gamin  is  wont  to  say.  Fortunately  for  Jack  he  was 
not  difficult  to  fit,  and  his  employer,  who  had  a 
warm  spot  for  him,  was  disposed  to  keep  his  man 
decked  like  a  magnate  in  his  cast-off  garments. 

But  after  a  time  Jack  lost  his  job,  and  then  he 


^^ EITHER  BO'ND  NOR  FREE,  216 

was  confronted  with  the  problem  how  to  meet  his 
room  rent.  Alas!  it  was  too  much  for  him.  The 
game  of  crap  in  a  little  while  became  quite  fasci- 
nating to  the  once  religious  enthusiast.  From  bad 
to  worse,  lower  and  lower  he  sunk  himself  in  the 
cesspool  of  vice  and  shame,  until  Clarissa  for  fear 
of  being  jeered  at  as  a  grass  widow,  abandoned 
Washington,  and  returned  with  Jack  to  her  old 
home. 

This  change  of  scene,  however,  was  not  accom- 
plished without  the  interposition  of  Merna,  who 
induced  Jack  and  his  wife  to  come  South,  promis- 
ing them  work,  if  they  needed  it. 


216  li EITHER  BOND  NOB  FREE. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

ORDER      OUT      OF      CONFUSION. 

Day  dawned  clear  and  cool  on  the  morning  of  the 

first  of  January, .     The  sky  was  cloudless,  the 

angel  of  peace  once  more  hovered  over  land  and 
sea,  and  there  was  everywhere  general  rejoicings, 
for  the  last  grim  reminder  of  war  with  a  foreign 
power  had  been  swept  away  with  the  sudden  collapse 
of  a  formidable  insurrection  in  our  new  possessions 
in  the  East. 

In  the  town  of  H all  was  bustle  and  con- 
fusion, for  the  colored  inhabitants  of  the  place  were 
early  astir  and  had  taken  complete  possession  of  the 
thoroughfares. 

The  day  had  a  deeper  meaning  for  them  than  it 
could  possibly  have  for  those  who  were  only  intent 
on  exchanging  the  formal  greetings  of  the  New 
Year.  It  was  Freedom's  day — the  anniversary  of 
the  emancipated  millions  from  thraldom. 

All  the  country  folk  were  in  town,  Swepsy  among 
the  rest.  The  rub-a-dub  of  drum,  the  air  piercing 
fife,  and  occasional  and  distant  sounds  of  bugle, 
awakened  in  the  breasts  of  these  early  risers  memo- 


VEITEER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  217 

ries  of  bygone  years.  Swepsy  had  come  to  town 
on  more  than  one  mission,  for  she  had  heard 
through  Ethel  and  Merna  of  the  untimely  taking  off 
of  Charles  Van  Courtney  and,  notwithstanding  the 
joy  and  glory  of  the  day,  was  saying  to  those  who 
would  listen  to  her:  'That  yaller  dude  is  gone;  I 
told  him  so." 

When  Sweqsy  saw  the  plump,  dusky  face  of  Rev. 
Burleigh,  standing  on  the  opposite  corner  of  the 
street,  she  rushed  up  to  him,  shouting  as  she  went, 
"There's  my  preacher  now." 

''How's  my  sister?"  inquired  the  minister,  as  he 
warmly  grasped  her  extended  hand.  She  had  with 
marked  deference  withdrawn  the  big  red  mitten 
from  her  chubby  black  hand. 

"What's  all  the  news.  Brother  Burleigh  ?" 

"Nothing  that  would  interest  Sister  Swepsy,"  he 
replied. 

"Well,  I  ain't  seen  you  since  that  Courtney  fellow 
what  run  away  with  Clarissa,  died.  I  reckon  he 
won't  try  and  run  away  with  any  more  women  folks 
now.     The  old  devil's  got  him  straight,  I  reckon.'* 

"That's  all  over  with  him.  But  how  did  you  hap- 
pen to  hear  about  it  ?  I  have  seen  nothing  concern- 
ing the  matter  in  the  papers.  What  little  I  have 
heard  reached  me  through  Miss  Gay — Ethel  Gay; 
I  suppose  you  remember  her?" 

"Yes,  sir ;  she  was  here — that  is,  out  to  my  house. 
That  man  brought  her  home — that  is,  to  town,  pas' 


218  2i EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

my  house,  when  they  come  from  the  picnic.  But 
she  did  not  tell  me.  I  heard  about  the  Courtney 
man  from  Mr.  Strother.  But  I  suppose  that  Wash- 
ington girl  was  put  out  about  not  getting  the  fellow 
that  death  cheated  her  out  of?" 

"No ;  Miss  Gay  writes  me  that  she  now  has  a  ne^v 
catch.  She  is  engaged  to  a  fellow  that  I  know 
quite  well ;  he  lives  in  these  parts.  I  have  my  suspi- 
cion that  it  is  Toussaint  Ripley." 

"I  don't  know  him,"  remarked  Swepsy,  *'but  I 
have  heard  tell  of  him." 

"There  he  stands  now.  He  is  the  orator  of  the 
day." 

"He's  a  nice  looking  man.  Call  him  over  here. 
No,  hold  on;  he  has  already  started  this  way,  T 
beHeve." 

As  Toussaint  approached  within  speaking  dis- 
tance. Rev.  Burleigh  said :  "Mr.  Ripley,  if  you  do 
not  already  know  Sister  Swepsy,  let  me  make  you 
acquainted  with  her." 

Toussaint  bowed,  and  the  two  shook  hands  in 
good  old  Southern  style. 

"I  was  talking  about  you  just  a  moment  ago," 
said  Mr.  Burleigh,  addressing  Toussaint. 

"I  hope  it  w^as  complimentary,  and  yet  I  have 
little  reason  to  expect  anything  good  nowadays." 

"Oh,  yes,  it  was  all  good  that  was  said,"  returned 
the  minister. 

"It   was   only   this,"    Swepsy  hastened   to   say, 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE,  219 

"Brother  Burleigh  said  you  was  goin'  to  get  mar- 
ried." 

"Not  exactly  that,"  interrupted  Mr.  Burleigh. 
"Sister  Swepsy  and  I  were  talking  about  Miss  Ethel 
Gay,  and  I  remarked  that  I  thought  she  and  yourself 
might  be  engaged — that  was  all." 

"No,  sir;  I  am  not  making  any  new  alliances. 
I  feel  more  inclined  to  seek  divorcement  this  New 
Year." 

"Then  you  must  be  married  already,"  laughed 
the  preacher. 

"No,  I  am  neither  married  nor  given  in  marriage. 
There  are  other  divorcements,  you  must  know,  save 
those  from  the  marriage  bond." 

"Well,  let's  have  it — out  with  it." 

"The  truth  is,  I  am  almost,  if  not  altogether,  a 
Democrat  to-day." 

"And  you  are  a  fool  to-day." 

"Yes,  my  God,  you  are  right,  Brother  Burleigh. 
I  ain't  got  no  use  for  a  nigger  Democrat.  I  hate 
'um.  If  I  had  a  husband  who'd  vote  the  Demo- 
cratic ticket,  Fd  tar  and  feather  him  an'  run  him 
away  from  home." 

"But,  my  sister,  you  must  not  be  so  severe  on  our 
friend." 

"You  want  the  truth,  don't  you?  Well,  there, 
you  got  it." 

"Friend  Ripley,  I  hope  you  will  not  preach  that 
sort  of  doctrine  in  your  speech  to-day." 


220         y EITHER  BOXD  XOR  FREE. 

*'I  have  no  idea  of  trying  to  fasten  my  views  upon 
others — for  the  present,  at  least.  Our  people — the 
masses,  I  mean — are  slow  to  grasp  an  idea — that  is, 
they  do  not  think.  I  realize  that  it  will  take  time 
to  have  them  see  things  in  their  true  light — things 
which  will  make  for  the  best  interests  of  themselves 
and  their  posterity.  But,  speaking  for  myself,  and 
myself  alone,  I  feel  as  if  I  should  this  New  Year's 
day  resolve  to  cut  loose  from  the  Republican  party 
and  be  divorced  from  it  forever." 

"And  why,  may  I  ask?" 

"Certainly  you  cannot  ask  me  why,  for  you  have 
been  accustomed  to  lament  and  bewail  the  status 
of  the  negro  in  this  country,  which  deplorable  state, 
you  must  confess,  has  been  brought  about  by  reason 
of  the  fealty  of  the  black  man  to  the  Republican 
party,  his  vote  being  given  solidly  for  that  party 
and  against  the  Democratic  party.  The  policy  of 
the  Republican  party  is  to-day  being  dictated  by  the 
sons  of  the  Abolitionists,  who  are  an  altogether 
different  set  from  the  old-timers.  For  myself,  I 
should  prefer  a  monarchy  to  a  Republic  governed 
like  ours.  The  negro  would  have  nothing  to  lose 
under  a  monarchy,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  would 
be  on  terms  of  perfect  equality  with  all  other  sub- 
jects. 

"I  say  it  is  impossible  to  be  an  honest  negro  Dem- 
ocrat in  the  South,"  gesticulated  the  minister.  "You 
would  vote  with  the  Democrats  for  the  nominee  of 


vmTntin  botud  i^or  freb.  221 

a  Democratic  primary,  knowing  at  the  time  that 
you  have  no  voice  in  the  primary  which  selected  the 
candidate?  I  am  a  race  man,  and  believe  that  we 
would  be  taking  a  backward  step  to  go  outside  the 
Republican  party  to  seek  a  remedy  for  the  political 
ills  from  which  we  suffer." 

''You  speak  as  if  all  the  Democrats  are  in  the 
South  and  confined  to  this  State.     I  will  admit  that 
there  are  some  bad  Democrats,  as  I  well  know  there 
are  many  bad  Republicans.     As  the  saying  goes: 
'•It  is  a  condition  and  not  a  theory  that  confronts  us.' 
I  speak  not  of  Democrats  in  this  or  that  State,  but 
of  Democrats  as  representatives  of  principles  in  the 
nation.  I  would  be  a  National  Democrat,  especially  ^ 
when  I  call  to  mind  the  treatment  I  received  at  the  ' 
hands  of  Government  officials  in  high  places,  some 
two  years  ago,  when  I  held  a  small  appointment 
under  your  Republican  administration.     Discourte- 
sies and  discriminations,  invidious  distinctions  and 
flagrant  violations  of  the  law  were  meted  out  to  me 
by  my  superiors  solely  on  account  of  my  color.     I 
only  asked  recognition  according  to  position  and 
merit.     They  chose,  however,  to  make  my  official 
life  a  burden  and  my  lot  a  hard  one.     Protests  to 
those  immediately  in  charge  of  my  work  availed  me 
nothing.     Finally,  I  brought  the  matter  of  my  un- 
fair treatment  to  the  attention  of  the  authorities  at 
Washington.     There  my  papers  were  pigeon-holed, 
no  action  ever  having  been  taken  in  the  matter.     As 


222  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

a  rebuke  for  the  protests  I  had  filed  against  the  in- 
dignities heaped  upon  me,  at  the  first  opportunity 
I  was  recommended  for  dismissal  on  a  trumped-up 
charge,  and  this  ended  my  connection  with  the  Gov- 
ernment service." 

"Your  experiences  were  a  hardship  to  you  per- 
sonally, but  they  were  hardly  serious  enough  for  you 
to  expect  your  race  to  renounce  its  allegiance  to  the 
Republican  party." 

*The  soldiers  and  the  band's  comin'  and  I'm 
gone,"  interposed  Swepsy,  excitedly.  In  her  eager- 
ness to  catch  up  wnth  the  crowd  and  follow  in  the 
wake  of  the  procession,  she  had  forgotten  to  say 
good-bye  to  her  beloved  minister. 

"As  I  was  saying,"  remarked  Rev,  Burleigh,  con- 
fusedly, "no  man  should  leave  the  Republican  party 
for  a  personal  grievance." 

"Well,  how  about  the  murder  of  the  negro  post- 
master at  Lake  City,  and  the  infant  in  his  wife's 
arms?  If  Baker  had  been  a  white  man  his  assas- 
sins would  have  been  hunted  down  and  hanged,  even 
if  their  capture  and  conviction  had  drained  the  Na- 
tional Treasury  and  called  into  service  the  detective 
and  armed  force  of  the  country.  But,  no,  the  Re- 
publican administration  is  impotent — powerless,  it 
is  said — to  protect  an  official  of  the  Government  in 
the  discharge  of  his  sworn  duty.  Is  this,  too,  to  be 
regarded  as  merely  a  personal  offense?" 

"No,  that  was  a  National  disgrace,  and  righteous- 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  223 

ly  to  be  deplored.  Mark  you,  I  am  with  you  in 
sympathy,  and  am  grieved  to  my  heart  when  I  think 
of  our  afflictions  as  a  people,  but  let  us  not  leave  the 
old  ship — the  Republican  party — but  stay  aboard  it. 
'Let  us  stand  the  storm;  it  won't  be  long,  we'll  an- 
chor by  and  by.'  This  prejudice  is  God's  plan. 
We  have,  after  all,  much  to  be  thankful  for.  Let  us 
be  thankful  that  we  are  not  living  in  Africa,  and 
that  we  are  not  in  other  parts  of  the  world,  as 
Armenians  and  Jews.  Don't  try  to  get  away  from 
your  race.  If  you  once  join  the  Democratic  party, 
you  will  be  alone,  having  no  company  at  the  South, 
where  you  will  most  likely  remain.  Love  your  race, 
for  the  white  man  will  never,  no,  never,  accept  you 
on  terms  of  equality  with  himself." 

"I  don't  want  to  get  away  from  my  race — I  only 
want  to  get  away  from  the  Republican  party,  with 
its  heartless  sycophants  North,  and  demagogues 
South.  The  negro  is  a  standing  joke.  He  is  the 
plaything  of  every  party  and  every  section  of  the 
country,  merely  because  he  does  not  exercise  any 
foresight  with  his  ballot.  McKinley  could  not  have 
been  elected  President  in  1896  without  the  negro 
vote.  Maryland  and  Kentucky,  West  Virginia  and 
Ohio,  California  and  Delaware,  Rhode  Island  and 
Connecticut  were  Republican  by  the  grace  of  the 
negro  vote.  So  long  as  the  negro  will  segregate  and 
remain  together  in  a  body,  he  will  accomplish  noth- 
ing.    Why  should  the  negro    in    any  respect  be 


224         NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

treated  as  a  class?  Leave  him,  I  say,  alone  to  pro- 
ceed on  his  personal  merits.  Leave  him  to  think 
and  act  for  himself  on  personal  questions  like  his 
white  fellow-citizen,  and  he  will  thereby  gain  the 
respect  of  all  right  thinking  people  and  very  ma- 
terially assist  the  white  man  in  forgetting  his  color. 
But  I  must  hurry  to  my  home,  as  the  orator  of  the 
day  should  be  found  there  when  called  to  take  his 
place  in  the  procession." 


The  parade  that  it  was  expected  would  start  at 
ten  o'clock — it  was  so  advertised — moved  off  about 
the  hour  of  two.  The  procession  was  composed  of 
a  single  company  of  the  State  Guard,  several  civic 
organizations  of  a  benevolent  character,  two  hun- 
dred members  of  the  Oyster  Shuckers'  Union,  a 
fraternal  society ;  besides  all  the  buggies  and  wagons 
which  were  owned  or  could  be  hired  by  their  occu- 
pants. These,  together  with  numerous  country 
folk,  astride  horses  of  their  own,  brought  up  the 
rear  end  of  the  spectacle. 

Taken  as  a  w^hole,  the  affair  was  creditable,  but 
its  good  points  were  lost  on  the  sorry  and  humili- 
ating horde — the  riff-raff  of  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren, slovenly  clad,  boisterous — trudging  along, 
wild  with  delight,  to  the  music  of  the  bands. 

Toussaint  addressed  the  tumultuous  gathering, 
or,  at  least,  as  many  as  were  able  to  elbow  their  way 


VEITEER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  225 

through  the  surging  mass  of  humanity  that  blocked 
the  entrance  to  the  First  Baptist  Church. 

Shortly  after  he  had  finished  his  speech,  in  which 
he  had  been  industriously  sowing  the  seed  of  discord 
between  the  races,  Merna  and  Strother  were  at  home 
talking  over  plans  whereby  they  hoped  to  improve 
the  material  condition  of  their  race  by  placing  them 
on  a  sure  industrial  footing. 

What  we  call  race  prejudice  had  given  Strother 
little  concern  in  a  personal  sense.  The  men  who 
looked  down  on  him  with  scorn  were  to  him  objects 
of  genuine  pity  rather  than  contempt.  He  did  noth- 
ing to  encourage  enmity  and  create  friction  between 
the  races.  His  mind  and  energies  were  wadded  to 
a  better  service.  He  was  no  dreamer.  He  did  not 
indulge  in  vagaries.  He  had  never  been  the  slave 
of  despair,  for  on  his  forehead  he  bore  the  prophecy 
of  hope.  Others  might  content  themselves  with 
speculating  and  theorizing,  but  for  himself  there 
was  so  much  requiring  instant  performance.  Labor 
for  others  was  his  religion,  and  the  greater  the 
problem  the  greater  the  blessing.  Opportunities  of 
usefulness  were  serious  matters  with  him,  for  he  had 
sense  enough  to  know  that  his  responsibility  to  his 
God  was  in  proportion  to  those  opportunities.  He 
gathered  all  the  forces  he  could  about  him,  and 
bound  them  captive  to  his  chariot.  While  others 
fretted  and  fumed  about  this  and  that  "hard  condi- 
tion" he  took  the  bit  firmly  between  his  teeth  and 


226  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

cheerily  moved  along  up  grade  to  his  destiny.  He 
was  ever  on  the  defensive,  never  on  the  offensive. 
And  he  won  many  a  conflict  with  a  stubborn  foe 
with  silence  and  smiles — effective  weapons.  Once 
only  can  it  be  charged  to  him  that  he  rebuked  any 
man  for  his  arrogance,  and  this  was  done  good 
naturedly.  •  It  happened  in  this  way :  An  implaca- 
ble ''Buckra-man"  had  referred  in  sarcastic  terms 
to  some  white  woman  who  attended  the  law  school 
where  he  had  been  a  student. 

*'I  reckon,"  said  his  questioner,  "them  Yankee 
women  would  set  right  close  to  you  colored  boys?" 

"I  was  quite  busy  with  my  books  when  at  school," 
replied  Strother,"  so  much  so  that  I  did  not  give 
any  thought  to  sexes  or  colors.  The  presence  of 
white  women  did  not  disturb  me.  The  truth  is  I 
have  no  prejudice  whatever  on  account  of  color. 
A  white  woman  is  quite  as  good  as  a  colored  one, 
that  is,  if  she  behaves  herself." 

"Ah!"  he  stammered  and  then  was  silent,  dazed 
by  the  directness  of  the  speech. 

Strother  at  this  time  was  thirty  years  of  age,  a 
type  of  robust  manhood,  and  having  a  mind  richly 
endowed.  He  was  calm  and  self-contained,  also 
temperate  in  speech  and  action.  He  made  no  ene- 
mies and  he  lost  no  friends.  He  was  a  paradox, 
being  reserved  to  the  verge  of  coldness,  and  yet 
none  was  more  genial  in  his  dealings  with  men. 
He  possessed  the  temperament  of  a  genius,  and  the 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  227 

courage  of  a  hero.  I  do  not  mean  a  hero  in  the  f 
every-day  acceptation  of  the  word,  but  in  its  broader 
and  best  sense,  for  he  possessed  in  an  eminent  de- 
gree the  quahty  of  self-concentration.  His  whole 
aim  seemed  to  be  to  fit  himself  more  fully  for  the 
discharge  of  his  arduous  duties — opportunities. 
And  in  all  that  he  did  he  adhered  to  the  motto,  "No 
excellence  without  labor."  He  did  not  court  the 
respect  and  confidence  of  men  merely  because  it 
might  in  some  way  be  helpful  to  him.  He  was  a 
lover  of  men,  and  hence  would  grasp  their  hands 
and  help  them  when  he  could.  His  powers  of  use- 
fulness, like  those  of  the  illustrious  Lincoln,  "Lay 
most  conspicuous  in  his  moral  purpose."  Wherever 
he  was  known,  men,  regardless  of  creed,  color  or 
party,  honored  and  respected  him  for  his  manly 
bearing. 

Strother  had  come  in  from  the  Emancipation  ex- 
ercises, and,  finding  Merna  perusing  a  book,  crept 
up  behind  her,  and,  surprising  her  with  a  kiss,  in- 
quired what  she  was  reading. 

"Let  me  read  you  these  lines  and  you  will,  doubt- 
less, recall  the  author,"  she  replied. 

"The  great  problem  is,  after  all,  how  shall  one 
grow  in  sympathy  and  tenderness  and  generosity 
and  consideration?  How  shall  he  feed  on  high 
thoughts  and  noble  aims?  How  shall  he  be  swift 
to  discern  and  avail  himself  of  those  opportunities 
for  usefulness  to  others  which  are  the  best  channels 


228  -NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

of  his  own  growth?  How  c:hall  he  hold  clear  and 
close  relations  with  the  divine  energy?  'Be  one  of 
the  conquerors !'  said  Balzac.  'The  universe  belongs 
to  him  who  wills  and  loves  and  prays ;  but  he  must 
will,  he  must  love,  he  must  pray!'  in  a  w^ord,  'he 
must  possess  wisdom,  force  and  faith' !" 

"Ah,  there  is  such  a  sweet  communion  in  living 
near  the  Master  and  sharing  in  his  work,"  she  said, 
laying  aside  the  book. 

"And  I  have  a  new  thought  which  will  bring  us 
more  work  in  this  and  the  years  to  come." 

"Well,  what  is  your  plan,  Edward?"  she  asked 
as  she  placed  a  chair  for  him  near  her  side. 

"Mine  is  an  economic  idea.  You  have  done  so 
well  with  your  school  savings  bank  in  the  past  year 
that  the  idea  is  spreading  like  wildfire  in  this  and 
the  nearby  counties.  I  believe  that  I  like  the  sys- 
tem you  employ  better  than  the  stamp  plan  of  sav- 
ings. It  is  really  more  educating  and  helpful  in 
encouraging  self-denial  and  thrift  as  against  the 
frivolous  waste  of  pennies  for  candy,  pickles,  and 
chewing  gum.  I  want  to  see  your  savings  plan  en- 
larged upon,  that  is,  I  w^ant  to  get  our  Senators  and 
Congressmen  from  this  State  to  introduce  a  bill  in 
Congress,  having  for  its  object  the  establishment  of 
postal  savings  banks.  With  this  end  in  view,  I 
have  decided  to  write  first  to  the  member  from  this 
district,  forwarding  him  a  copy  of  the  resolution 
which  was  passed  at  a  recent  conference  of  the 


T^EfTffER  BO^D  ^OR  FREE.  229 

graduates  and  friends  of  the  Southern  Institute, 
urging  the  passage  of  some  such  measure  as  I  have 
mentioned.  The  provisions  of  the  bill  will  most 
likely  take  in  our  town,  for  this  place  has  made 
wonderful  strides  in  the  last  six  years,  having,  on 
account  of  the  'boom,'  nearly  doubled  its  popula- 
tion." 

"And  the  plan?" 

"It  is  that  postal  savings  banks  be  made  a  part  of 
the  postal  service  and  operated  for  the  benefit  of 
the  people.  I  believe  this  scheme,  while  benefitting 
all  the  people,  will  be  of  inestimable  advantage  to 
our  race." 

"Yes,  I  believe  that  at  least  thirty  per  cent,  of  our 
colored  women  of  the  South  would  hoard  their  earn- 
ings if  they  were  enabled  to  open  a  savings  account 
with  their  nickels  and  dimes,  fostered  and  protected 
by  the  government." 

And  thus  Strother  and  Merna  continued  to  dis- 
cuss this  and  other  race  questions  until  the  day  was 
done  and  the  night  came  on  apace  calling  into  serv- 
ice the  evening  lamps.  But  at  midnight  there  was 
a  hum  and  confusion  of  voices  near  the  home  of 
Strother,  which  had  aroused  Seba  in  his  kennel  out 
of  a  profound  slumber.  The  dog's  long  drawn  out 
whines  had  changed  into  barkings  loud  and  furious. 
These  awakened  the  man  servant,  who  listened  and 
heard  distinctly  the  sound  of  voices  and  the  stamp- 
ing of  many  feet  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the 


230  'SEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

house.    He  hastened  to  call  Strother,  who  hurriedly 
dressing  himself,  called  out  from  his  window: 
"Halloo!     Who  comes?" 
"Friends,  Asa  Burleigh  and  others." 
Strother  recognized  the  voice,  and  hastened  be- 
low,  where  he  found  more  than  a  dozen  people, 
greatly  agitated,  awaiting  his  presence.     Before  he 
could  question  them  as  to  their  mission.  Rev.  Bur- 
leigh spoke  up : 

"Mr.  Strother,  there  is  great  excitement  down- 
town. Jack  Dempsey  is  about  to  be  lynched ; — that 
is,  if  he  is  caught.-  Bands  of  lynchers  are  now  out 
ransacking  every  hole  and  corner  for  him.  I  have 
been  charged  with  harboring  him,  and  for  this  my 
life  is  threatened.  We  want  you  to  come  with  us 
and  speak  to  the  mob." 

"Then  you  want  me  to  be  lynched?" 
"No,  you  don't  understand  me.     There  is  no  time 
to  parley.     Get  your  hat  and  come  with  us,  and 
don't  lose  a  second,  for  while  we  talk  they  may  have 
caught  and  made  away  with  him." 

When  Strother  had  started  with  his  midnight 
callers,  the  mayor  of  the  town  stepped  up  to  him, 
and  said: 

"I  will  tell  you  why  I  have  come  with  these  peo- 
ple to  see  you.  I  feel  that  you  can  save  the  negro. 
It  is  my  duty  to  protect  every  citizen  in  his  legal 
rights — your  people  as  well  as  mine.  I  don't  know, 
nor  do  I  care,  anything  about  Jack  Dempsey  the 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  231 

man,  but  I  do  care  for  citizen  Jack  Dempsey.    I  care 
for  the  maintenance  of  law  and  order." 

"What    has   Jack    Dempsey  done?"  asked  Stro- 
ther. 

"I  do  not  know  what  he  has  done,  but  it  is  said 
that  he,  while  crazed  by  drink,  fired  a  pistol  in  a 
group  of  white  people  who  were  viewing  your  pro- 
cession from  the  sidewalk,  instantly  killing  a  young 
lady.  A  brother  of  the  murdered  lady  is  deter- 
mined to  avenge  her  death.  Under  cover  of  the 
darkness,  the  criminal  has  been  enabled  to  make 
good  his  escape.  But  bloodhounds  will  shortly  be 
put  on  his  trail.  He  will  surely  be  strung  up  when 
caught,  and  a  fire  started  under  him  by  the  brother. 
The  town  is  in  an  uproar.  A  howling  frenzied  mob 
has  taken  control  of  the  place,  while  the  negroes  are 
sullen,  swearing  that  no  violence  shall  be  done  the 
darky,  and  threatening  to  play  havoc,  using  the 
torch  if  he  is  not  dealt  with  according  to  law.  The 
police  are  powerless  to  restrain  or  disperse  the  mob. 
There  is,  you  know,  but  a  single  company  of  militia 
here.  I  cannot  get  them  out — those  that  do  not 
claim  to  be  sick  are  conveniently  away — for  their 
sympathies  are  with  the  mob,  while  a  race  war  is 
imminent,  led  on  by  the  hot-headed  and  impulsive 
whites  and  blacks ;  other  negroes,  fearing  a  general 
uprising  of  the  whites  have,  so  I  have  been  told,  fled, 
terror  stricken — some  to  the  woods  and  others  to 


232  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

the  river's  brink — trying  to  get  away  in  small 
boats. 

"Those  who  are  looking  for  trouble  are  getting, 
I  am  afraid,  more  than  they  have  bargained  for.  I 
have  pleaded  with  the  mob,  but  all  in  vain.  The 
chief  of  police  has  also  harangued  the  crowd,  but 
they  refuse  to  hear  us,  calling  us  'nigger  lovers.' 
Your  minister  here  wanted  tf)  say  a  word,  but  the 
crowd  threatened  to  wreak  vengeance  on  him  say- 
ing that  the  political  doctrines  which  he  and  Tous- 
saint  Ripley  are  disseminating  were  making  negroes 
saucy  and  indolent,  and  that  he  is  partly  responsible 
for  the  crime  of  Jack  Dempsey.  Some  Democratic 
associates,  also  Republicans,  have  begged  me  to 
bring  you  face  to  face  with  the  crowd,  for  w^e  all 
believe  that  all  classes  and  parties  wall  give  you  a 
hearing." 

"I  am  going  with  you,  but  I  am  sure  that  nothing 
I  can  do  will  alter  the  purpose  of  a  mob.  They 
don't  want  to  hear  me;  they  want  only  poor  Jack 
Dempsey." 

Strother's  visitors  returning  to  the  scene  of  the 
great  gathering  gained  may  accessions  on  their 
v/ay,  for  it  was  supposed  that  he  himself  was  the 
criminal.  The  crowd  instinctively  fell  back,  open- 
ing a  way  to  the  spot  selected  for  the  lynching. 
Rev.  Burleigh  dropped  out  of  the  ranks  while  the 
mayor  and  his  Democratic  followers  surrounding 
and  shielding  Strother  were  hard  pressed  near  a 


'NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  233 

wagon,  placed  against  an  electric  pole  which  shed 
its  fitful  glare  on  many  an  upturned  face  where  "rea- 
son had  fled  to  brutish  beasts."  Strother  was  lifted 
bodily  in  the  wagon  where  he  without  introduction 
or  ceremony  said : 

"Friends,  I  am  here  and  against  my  will.  I  have 
been  pressed  to  come  by  our  fellow  citizens,  includ- 
ing the  honorable  mayor  of  our  town." 

"We  don't  want  you,  Strother,"  shouted  a  voice. 
"We  want  that  other  nigger." 

"Let  him  alone,"  shouted  another,  "he's  decent, 
and  behaves  himself." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that  you  don't  want 
me,"  continued  Strother.  "I  am  sincere — I  would 
not  have  com.e,  but  you  know  that  the  first  duty  of 
a  citizen  is  to  obey  the  law,  and  obey  those  whom 
you  entrust  to  execute  it.  I  know  that  I  ought  not 
to  be  here  at  this  late  hour,  unless,  perhaps,  I  can 
do  some  good;  and  I  do  not  think  that  you  should 
be  here  either  unless  you  can  do  some  good.  But 
where  is  Jack  Dempsey?" 

"We'll  have  him  here  before  morning,  and  have 
him  strung  up,"  came  a  voice  in  reply. 

"I  want  to  serve  you  now  as  I  have  always  tried 
to  do.  Let  "US  be  calm,  if  we  would  reason  to- 
gether. The  law  must  be  vindicated,  and  that  with- 
out delay.  Now  possess  your  souls  in  patience 
until  morning,  and  then  if  the  officers  of  the  law 
do  not  bring  the  guilty  to  justice — that  is  all  we 


23^  NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

should  ask — I  will  join  any  one,  or  all  of  you,  and 
together  with  your  sergeant,  under  authority  of  law, 
we  will  bring  the  fugitive  to  prison.  I  have  every 
assurance  that  his  trial  and  punishment  will  be 
swift  and  certain  and  ample  to  satisfy  the  ends  of 
justice." 

"We  will  wait  another  hour,"  said  the  leader  of 
the  mob. 

"And  I  will  wait  with  you,"  replied  Strother. 

In  the  meantime,  Strother,  the  mayor  and  his 
followers  v/ent  among  the  people  doing  effective 
missionary  work. 

Nearly  two  hours  had  passed,  but  Jack  Dempsey 
had  not  been  found,  and  the  crowd  began  to  dis- 
perse. Strother,  the  police  officers,  and  a  few 
others  remained  at  their  post,  expecting  any  moment 
the  return  of  the  searching  party  with  their  victim. 

Morning  came  and  Strother  returned  home,  anx- 
ious and  perplexed  as  to  the  fate  of  Jack  Dempsey. 

It  was  near  noon  when  Rev.  Burleigh  made  the 
discovery  that  the  door  leading  to  his  study  in  the 
church  had  been  forced  open.  He  immediately  sus- 
pected that  Jack  was  secreted  in  the  building.  A 
careful  search  found  the  poor  fellow  crouched  in  a 
corner  of  the  belfry  tower. 

This  information  the  minister  conveyed  to  Stro- 
ther, who  advised  that  Jack  be  turned  over  to  the 
sergeant,  who  would  see  to  the  prisoner's  safe  keep- 


■NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  235 

ing  there,  or  elsewhere,  if  necessary,  until  the  ex- 
citement had   subsided. 

Rev.  Burleigh  insisted  that  no  risk  be  taken  in  a 
hostile  community,  with  a  hostile  bench  and  bar,  but 
that  a  purse  should  be  made  up,  and  Jack,  disguised 
and  sent  North  at  once.  Strother  was  emphatic  in 
declaring  that  he  had  pledged  himself  to  assist  in 
surrendering  Jack  if  the  mob  would  let  the  law  take 
its  course,  and  this  they  had  tacitly  agreed  to  do. 

Before  Jack  Dempsey  had  been  delivered  to  the 
sergeant  the  news  had  been  heralded  through  the 
afternoon  papers  that  the  woman  supposed  to  have 
been  murdered  was  alive,  but  suffering  somewhat 
from  a  flesh  wound  in  the  right  shoulder. 

And  it  came  to  pass  that  Jack  Dempsey's  New 
Year's  day  carousal  cost  him  three  years'  confine- 
ment in  the  penitentiary,  but  then  it  would  have  been 
•worse — much  worse,  for  him  had  Judge  Lynch  held 
sway. 

But  for  Strother  there  had  been  a  fresh  blot  on 
our  much  boasted  civilization,  and  for  the  crime  of 
Jack  Dempsey,  murderer  or  no  murderer — there 
would  have  been  nearly  one  thousand  m.urderers, 
for  all  are  murderers  who  deprive  any  human  being 
of  life  without  warrant  of  law.  The  reckless  and 
vicious  must  be  punished — not  by  the  mob,  but  by 
the  law.  Every  crime  is  a  blow  at  civilization. 
Every  murderer  or  rapist  is  one  fell  stroke  at  civili- 
zation.    One  thousand  lynchers  are  but  one  thou- 


236         NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

sand  savage  thrusts  at  civilization.  This  question 
concerns  every  man,  white  and  black,  for  all  are 
part  and  parcel  of  this  civilization.  The  act  of  the 
lyncher  as  he  torments  his  victim,  making  him 
v^rithe  over  the  flaming  pyre  with  its  dismal  glare, 
causes  humanity  to  shudder  far  beyond  the  outposts 
of  civilization. 

The  crime  of  a  negro  should  not  be  interpreted 
as  the  crime  of  his  race,  for  ninety-five  per  cent,  of 
them  lend  neither  sympathy  nor  encouragement  to 
the  criminal,  but  abhor  and  detest  his  villainy.  And 
would  it  not  be  a  sad  day  for  the  Anglo-Saxon  if  the 
crime  of  the  white  savage  was  construed  to  be  the 
crime  of  his  race?  The  whites  of  the  South  have 
the  legislatures,  the  judges  and  the  juries — all  the 
machinery  of  law  and  government — and  it  is  theirs 
to  inaugurate,  in  a  spirit  of  fairness  such  reforms  as 
will  make  for  the  betterment  of  both  races;  or  else 
the  five  per  cent,  of  vicious  w-hites  and  the  five  per 
cent,  of  degraded  blacks,  sowing  perpetually  the  seed 
of  discord,  may  invite  a  harvest  of  woe. 

It  is  as  true  now  as  ever,  that  there  is  a  class  of 
Southern  w^hites  justly  famed  for  their  high  sense 
of  honor,  their  generous  hospitality  and  devoted 
friendships,  but,  alas,  they  no  longer  dictate  the 
policy  of  the  State.  The  poor  white  man  is  supreme. 
He  it  is  who  is  responsible  for  the  Jim  Crow  car, 
which  compels  an  intelligent  and  refined  colored 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  237 

man  to  pay  first-class  fare  for  third-class  accommo- 
dation. 

With  the  mass  of  the  negro  race  there  is  need  of 
a  higher  order  of  morality,  and  one  naturally  looks 
to  the  white  man  as  an  example  of  higher  and  better 
things.  But  we  shall  scarcely  find  our  inspiration 
in  the  work  of  the  mob,  and  in  that  of  the  destroyer 
of  manhood  suffrage.  The  Southern  white  man 
owes  it  to  his  posterity  to  transmit  a  better  legacy 
than  this. 

No  community  is  competent  to  dispassionately 
hear  and  determine  the  guilt  of  an  accused  person. 
And  no  sane  man  will  make  this  contention.  It  is 
not  their  province,  and  they  cannot  usurp  it.  They 
cannot  rightfully  put  to  death  any  man,  black  or 
white. 

Punish  us  when  guilty  according  to  law,  but  pray 
do  not  torture  nor  degrade  us. 

The  negro  is  not  inherently  different  from  other 
men.  He  has  the  same  aspirations — he  loves  and 
suffers  and  hopes  and  fears  like  other  men.  Con- 
ditions in  this  country  have,  however,  operated  to 
make  him  much  "lower  than  the  angels."  The  little 
army  of  w^hite  philanthropists  with  the  Strothers 
and  Mernas  wall  do  their  best  to  reclaim  the  Jack 
Dempseys,  Clarissas  and  Van  Courtneys,  but  this 
reformation  cannot  be  accomplished  in  a  day,  nor 
a  year,  for  there  are  agencies  at  work  to  retard  and 
hinder  this  grievous  task.     There  is  the  white  man 


238  2f EITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE. 

with  his  unnatural  antipathy  and  resentment,  and 
there  are  Toussaint  Ripleys  and  Asa  Burleighs  who 
are  doing  far  more  mischief  than  good  in  the  world. 

And  yet,  after  all,  there  is  no  serious  friction  be- 
tween the  whites  and  blacks  of  the  South.  And 
the  domineering  spirit  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  is  not 
confined  to  the  old  slave  master  nor  his  son  at  the 
South,  but  it  obtains  wherever  they  set  foot.  The 
educated  negro  makes  for  peace,  and  his  industrial 
training  is  the  sure  foundation  of  future  usefulness. 
Let  him  then  make  friends  with  the  people  with 
whom  his  destiny  is  involved.  Let  him  divide  in- 
telligently in  politics,  but  never  rest  content  until 
his  ballot  is  counted  as  cast.  The  self-interest  of 
the  whites — a  ruling  pasion  with  all  men — will  pro- 
tect the  ballot  in  the  black  hand  when  it  becomes  a 
potent  factor,  determining,  as  the  balance  of  power, 
the  authority  of  men  in  political  affairs. 

The  negro  boys  and  girls  must  be  taught  to  en- 
courage race  enterprises,  to  emulate  the  worthy  of 
their  race,  to  be  charitable  to  the  deserving  around 
them,  and  to  hear  and  respond  to  the  distant  cry 
of  distress,  whether  it  comes  from  flood,  famine  or 
other  pestilence.  Let  the  children  be  taught  to 
work,  to  love  and  to  think, — all  these  by  good  fath- 
ers and  mothers ;  and  the  present  restless  feeling  will 
give  place  to  useful  living,  not  in  the  North,  but 
here  in  the  South,  where  race  problems  will  then 


NEITHER  BOND  NOR  FREE.  239 

be  seen  as  race  blessings,  for  these  make  opportu- 
nities— God's  choicest  gifts. 

''Opportunities  Hy  in  straight  lines, 
They  touch  us  hut  once  and  never  return, 
But  the  evil  we  do  goes  in  circles. 
And  returns  to  the  place  from  which  it  started/' 


THE    END, 


(imM 


^ 


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